July 14, 2016

When the universe speaks to you

I once dreamt of being brought in front of a tree with golden apples. Someone was holding my left hand tightly, I couldn’t let go. “Look up! Look up! See the apples!” I wouldn’t dare to look up, for I was too scared to know what was up. “Just look up!” the voice told me impatiently. I want to let go, run away, but I am stuck with this person. Having no choice, I looked up and saw bright shimmering golden apples. I was appalled and I couldn’t believe what I saw. However, that was also the moment when the voice suddenly disappeared and immediately freed my hand. She vanished into thin air. I tried to look for her, I shouted but she never came back. I never saw her face. I woke up panting.

That was how the universe spoke to me. 

Just look up. I always believe that there are already stories written for us, even before we were born. Fate, as they call it, and because I’m quite conceited, I want to believe I am bound for something big in my life. In my younger years, I thought I was. But lately, I started thinking otherwise. 

I’m not being pessimistic; I’m just trying to be realistic. There’s a difference. I wouldn’t say, my world fell apart that’s why I’m already thinking this way. No. Apparently, my world is still the world I live in ever since I was born. It never fell apart. I just grew up and suddenly thought, “Wow, this world doesn’t revolve around me”. I don’t live in movies and fairytales, with dramas and romance. I live in a world where my crush doesn’t even know me, or my seatmate is prettier than me. I live in a world, where I fail at the beginning and I still fail at the end. This is a world, where I might get killed any time and .00005 people of this planet would attend my funeral, I’m both meaningless and lifeless. There would be no closing red curtains, fireworks, impeccable soundtrack and happy ending banner at the end. In short, I live in a world where people hopes for their life to be somehow different than the rest, but end up being what mostly are.

Admit it. I somehow, broke your dreams and life goals. In truth, I broke mine. I still want to believe that there’s a reason why things should happen and why we feel certain things at the moment? I want to make sure that there’s still hope despite being more and more cynical each passing day. Honestly, I am not afraid of my world falling apart; I am more scared of my life becoming meaningless as time goes by. This was when the universe spoke to me, and she spoke out of misery. She’ll let you suffer, she’ll hold you so tight you couldn’t let go, she will scare you, she will make you feel useless and you just want to quit. Then, on that spur of the moment just when you’re about to give up and walk away, she’ll let you look up and see bright shimmering apples. 

I still want to believe in fate and that all of us are bound for something great in life. Thinking about this makes me want to live a little longer, to wait for a miracle, to wait for this greatness to come. However, this was when I realized; I shouldn’t just sit around, wait and pretend things are going to be okay soon. I have to be my own miracle. I have to be the miracle. I am the miracle. I will continue to be one. If I want to believe in miracles, I should also believe in myself, despite my lack of intellect, as compared to others who were born with stars as their birth mark. I was born with a cross to carry, and I don’t know how long Via Dolorosa is, but this too shall pass. As fate suggests, we already have stories written for us. But to me, my story has yet to be written. The universe is already conspiring. I can already feel someone holding my left hand tightly, and we are close to that tree with bright shimmering golden apples. I just have to look up, when the right time comes. I hope there will be fireworks. 

When the universe speaks to you, you'll never know it's the universe. Look up! Look up!

I'm still here,

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