I am learning to surrender. To people, to situations, to nights that I cannot force to not come. One may think that doing nothing, sitting and watching life pass by them: idleness - must be the easiest thing to do. I mean, after all, what can be so difficult about doing nothing? But imagine a life where nothing is right, days that smother you, words being said that you cannot reply back to even though you have the perfect response, and deliberately grounding yourself to a life of lies – the helplessness of it all, the impotency of it all – it isn’t really very easy.
It is said that every experience is here to teach us something about ourselves. And that might be very true, I am starting to see that. But isn’t it just so messed up? The entire idea of learning through experiences? Have you ever given it some thought? To learn about pain by going through pain, to learn about trust by going through betrayal. And in the end, what are we even learning all of these things in the life for, if in the end all we can do is die? If in the end everything is only moving towards the end.
And in a life where you’re so used to being in control of everything, in control of building your own narrative, in control of giving meaning to everything that has to touch you – surrendering appears to be impossible. Constricting. Shackling. Keeping you from living, from doing, from building, from writing your own story. Because when you’re so used to being the writer, it is difficult to hand over the pen to someone else and sit by and read the story going. Especially when you don’t like the story at all, and there were so many ways you could have written it better. And it’s not someone else’s story too. It’s yours. It’s what you have to live every day.
But here I am, learning to surrender. And hoping that someday it will all make sense.
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