writing

March 26th, 2020

I don’t write. I write messages to friends. I write notes such that I don’t forget. I write code as a software engineer. Yet I don’t write.

I’ve always wanted to write, however, always pondered about what to write about. I could write about anything, yet who would spare their time and attention for my words. Ideas are flashing by so quickly that I cannot grasp them. These flashing lights are the things I care about in life; The lights that make up my life. This is one of them.

A few months ago, I traveled to Peru. When I came back, everyone was asking if I have been to the Machu Pichu. I barely did any sightseeing at least not in the traditional sense. I was lost. Lost about life. Lost about a sense of direction. I had an idea of things I wanted in life before the inevitable happened. However, I had no clue where I was going. This trip was supposed to fix that.

In a new continent, a new country, and a new city that I never have held a breath in, I watched as life happened. I sat outside of Basílica y Convento de San Francisco de Lima watching the tourists taking photos, the local merchants selling churros, and pigeons pecking at the fountain. Normally, people would write about how beautiful life is yet I didn’t see any of the beauty. I simply saw life as it happened. I simply asked “Why?”; To be more exact, I asked “why do they live?”

I am an apathetic, nihilistic, pessimistic lone wolf. If there’s anything I understand about the universe, it’s that things move on; Ordo Ab Chao. I see nothing in my life to ever be permanent. No friends, no lovers, no families. I think and say what’s the point, yet I have this urge to prove myself to myself. Perhaps I am just a hypocrite. I have always wanted success regardless of what the measure may be. This desire made me goal-driven. Goals that measured success. I always had goals in life up until two years ago. I have been lost ever since then only to realize that I am lost in a mental desert a few months ago. Only perceived the situation as my sand castle has crumbled. Lost all things I didn’t realize I cared about until they were gone. I confessed my feelings for someone only to realize that those feelings were superficial but were rather a fantasy need to love someone. I have cut communications with my father since my parents’ divorce realizing family won’t be there for me after losing all trust. I have failed to find any remote inch of success with finding a reputable job realizing I only say and want but do not do. Finally, my health has worsened and is in serious conditions requiring medical surgeries realizing I have taken no care.

That’s why I went on that trip. I needed to disappear from myself and the toxic lifestyle I had. On the trip, I talked and listened to strangers, to the occasional ones who happened to speak some English since I know no Spanish. Talking about their life, my life, Canadian culture, Peruvian cuisines, and things to do in Peru. It is the most basic thing in the world to have small talks, yet I always found it the hardest. I realized I don’t listen to the day-to-day details, so I don’t know how to talk about them. I simply overlook them fixated about future goals and then forget them. I have goals yet no path since I do not live the day. I waste my day watching Youtube and Netflix, going on Reddit, and napping. During the trip, I tried to listen. I listened to the details of life. I listened to books. Most importantly, I listened to myself. It’s cheesy as fuck. I know. Yet, I realized that my failure to be productive comes from my failure to listen to myself. Perhaps, my mom was onto something when she’d say that I am going to fry my brain watching too much telly in elementary school. I have been frying my brain watching stupid Youtube videos giving myself no time to listen to the details. During this trip, I listened. I didn’t realize it then but I realize now. I was beginning to feel better near the end of the trip because I listened. I listened to books. I listened to my taste buds having the best meal I’d ever had at La Gloria eating piranha Ceviche. I listened to myself and wrote a letter to myself describing why I went on that trip. I still don’t understand the beauty of life and I might never. I am merely wishing that listening will allow me to achieve my goals and get me out of the desert back into the city. I hope to listen, to write, and to think.

And no, I did not go to the Machu Pichu. Stop asking me why I didn’t.