I have just watched “the theory of everything”, the story of Stephen Hawking’s amazing life. I have thus been unable, for the past half hour since the film ended, to breathe properly, as I think of my own ineptitude to be something more than one of the many shadows roaming the Earth, purposeless.
Is it fine to feel so very empty after watching a movie filled with hope, showcasing the beauty of what humankind is capable of and the extremes one can reach when stimulated enough to desire to? For the past ten months, I have been in constant search of what would make my presence here matter, what I could give beyond what society dictates is enough for someone of relative sanity and of slightly above average mind. Most people nowadays earn their living by selling things; they sell houses, cars, food, objects, superficial dreams and insubstantial ideals, whether by creating the aforementioned products or by marketing them with words and visual design or by predicting and calculating their success. Everything has become for sale, even our souls as we are fed nonsensical dreams of grandeur and shallow pursuits that lead nowhere truly worthwhile. Is it wrong to want more, to aim to impact one person at the very least, many more if possible, to seek a defining path in a world that has erased individual identity for the sake of a united mess? I don’t want to sell things, I don’t even want things anymore; I crave ideas, depth, meaning, I find myself irrevocably attracted to the intricate workings of the human heart, soul and mind, and if caressing the idea of making a difference, despite the smallness of my stature in comparison with the greatness of my surroundings, makes me a demented fool, then so be it. I am deranged enough to want what the major part of humanity seems to have relinquished; I will drink from the fountain of life and be part of what brings its essence back to the surface, and I will not give up on doing something more significant than selling things we do not need.
I am but a small speck of dust trying to find my way on a planet of which roads have been drawn and maps have been traced, yet no real path finds itself lit for the insatiable wantings of my core. This, however, is in no way what will stop my longing for something more, something I can’t quite put my finger on just yet, but that I deep down know I will someday find.