Is it such a bad thing to have led a little life? It is not given to everyone to have a large, grandiose life-the kind filled with noble deeds and triumphant successes. Does it mean I’ve given up if I decide to settle for a small life.
All I want-that was never something I could quantify. For what I wanted seemed to mutate and shimmer in the mists of my own changing desires. First I wanted a career, then I wanted love. Was I to blame for not knowing that those two things do not come hand in hand? That to pursue one meant giving up the other? Or rather, to have one come into my life meant the detriment of the other.
It isn’t that I am unhappy- certainly not. I am happy, although as with all things, happiness is relative. And happiness doesn’t necessarily mean satisfaction. But this then boils down to that devilish question-what do I want?
It certainly isn’t to do magnificent things. It was once a glittering career filled with money. What is it now?
If I knew the answer to that-if the knotty tangled web of my own hearts desires could come loose-then would I perhaps stop feeling like an impostor? Pretending to be complete even as I sense a large gaping hole within which swallows up everything.
If I held that key, would it stop mattering that I keep obsessing over having lost something-my youth and with it my chances of succeeding in a career? Would I stop trying to fill that hole with inconsequential items-stop driving myself further into debt in order to distract myself from the horrifying realities of life.
I have led a dissolute life. I have led a resolute life. I have lived and I have suspended living waiting for something between the trees.
A little life is not a bad thing. No, but is it enough?