Archive for the ‘Existentialism’ Category
12 Feb, 2008
Is she real?
The day started as most of my days start. It was normal in every sense: woke up at the usual time; did the usual morning routines; and I was on the train, on my way to work.
While on the train, I glanced around, and caught sight of a man and a woman holding hands. It suddenly dawned on me that I had forgotten if I was attached.
Did I just hold a girl’s hand yesterday, or no?
I quickly scanned through whatever thoughts I had of having a girlfriend, and realised that I couldn’t be a hundred percent sure if she was real or was just a part of my imagination.
Then the phone buzzed: she had just sent me a text message!
She exists!
I read the message and put the phone in my pocket.
Two minutes later, I wondered again if she was real.
8 Aug, 2007
Without Direction
I feel like a powerful ship without a rudder; like I have the potential to achieve a tremendous amount, but because I’m not too sure what I want to achieve, I stay still and let the currents take me where it will.
I’m going nowhere, slowly.
Maybe I should pick an arbitrary shore and head toward that. Everyone seems to be rushing somewhere.
But then again, perhaps it’s better I just sit still and enjoy the experience out at sea.
With direction or without, are they not both part of what we call life?
Who’s to say what’s right or wrong? Who’s to say what we should or shouldn’t do?
7 Jul, 2007
The Guru
The self-help guru walked up to me and asked, “what would you do if you could do anything, anything at all, and knew you couldn’t fail?”
I looked at him, thought for a bit, and shrugged.
“How can you not know?” he asked. “What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?”
My face was blank. I really didn’t know.
His look was intense; he demanded an answer.
“I would,” I said, “just live, I guess.”
His furrowed brow showed displeasure, but how could I tell him what I didn’t know?
“Have you no goals? No aspirations? Haven’t you thought about your purpose here on Earth?”
I could find no answer.
“With an attitude like yours,” he said, “you will never amount to anything. How can you live your life without a goal, without a purpose?”
I wanted to ask if all that was important: goals, aspirations, purpose… But the way he said it I figured it must have mattered quite a lot to him. I decided not to ask, seeing how intense he was.
“Do you want to die a statistic?” he asked, but before I could answer him, he continued, “Do not waste your life, son. Dream big goals; achieve big things. Do not waste your time here on Earth!”
I did have dreams. I dreamt of my cat, growing old with me, surviving beyond his life expectancy.
14 Feb, 2007
The Baby
I wrote the following poem in camp, inspired after I unthinkingly remarked that a friend’s “twenty minutes of fun created a lifetime of pain” when he talked about his illegitimate daughter:
He asked her for a kiss
On a night so very fine.
He asked her to be his
Over red roses and wine.They had some fun that night,
Twenty minutes more or less,
In a room with dimmed-down light,
That’s how they liked it best.Little did they know how fateful
That night was to be;
Something most describe as wonderful
They were going to see.But little Jamie was to be born
Without hands and feet,
With a mouth crooked and torn
And a heart that oft-missed a beat.Their twenty minutes of love
Turned into a lifetime of despair;
They created something
Even God could not repair.For three months little Jamie cried,
For that was how long God on Earth kept.
Taking pity on the parents and child,
He let her aching heart set.
9 Dec, 2006
On the Lack of Ambition
The old man walked up to me and asked, “what would you do if you could do anything, anything at all, and knew you couldn’t fail?”
I looked at him, thought for a bit, and shrugged.
He looked at me with a curious eye. “How can you not know?” he asked. “What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?”
My face was blank. I really didn’t know.
His face, at first fatherly, grew intense; he demanded an answer.
“I would just live, I guess.”
“Just live, boy? Just live? Have you no goals? No aspirations? Have you not thought about your purpose here on Earth? Have you no ambition?”
I could find no answer.
His brows furrowed. “With an attitude like yours,” he said, “you will never amount to anything. You will die a statistic. Just another one of the billions of souls who have walked the Earth and left no mark.”
His faced relaxed a little, then he continued, “Is that the way you want to die? A statistic?”
I thought about this a moment, smiled, and said, “sir, if I died a statistic, I wouldn’t live to regret it.”
He grew furious and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt. Pulling my face close to his, he said, “Boy, do you not understand? It is people like you — apathetic, selfish people like you — that have made this world such a horrible, horrible place.”
“Sir, what have I done?” I asked, feeling terribly maligned.
“Nothing, boy. Absolutely nothing.” And he walked away.