The unbearable lightness of being. My edition.

Sometimes I’m an idiot. Like truly, an idiot. My brother would crack a joke right about now, saying “When are you not an idiot?”, but that’s a sibling-thing. But that doesn’t take away that sometimes I screw up. Badly. The only difference I guess, is that when I screw up, it’s usually in a way people don’t even realize. But that’s because I’m me. And I haven’t met many people like me. That’s not a cocky thing to say, it’s just true. Ask anyone.

It’s got to do with the things I like. The way I see things. The way I entrust my happiness to the grander schemes in life. The way I like to exercise control over my personality, but revel in setting it free when I’m amongst friends. The way where decorum is just a word to me and not something to set your standards to.

The day I don’t find joy in drinking a Fristi?
The day I don’t enjoy the transcendental beauty of a single tulip?
The day I don’t laugh once in an entire day?

That’s when I won’t be able to recognize myself. And it’s also something that makes me me. Because everyone always says that they appreciate the small things in life much more than the grander things. But it’s the few individuals who actually live their lives like that. Or maybe I’ve been missing it so far and I’m blind to other people’s behaviors. That’s actually currently on debate, if I’m honest.

What I mean to say is this: I don’t measure happiness in the number that’s sitting on my bank account. And I don’t measure it in the power I hold over other people. And I certainly don’t even measure it in the number of friends I have. See, what does quantity have to do with it? It’s quality that matters. So I prefer a few really close friends than a bunch of “hey-how-ya-doing” friends. Just chilling on the couch together, cracking jokes and having a good time. That’s enough for me. That’s all I need.

I keep telling people that I was born simple. I don’t need much in life. And when people try to tell me that there must be more that I want in life, then that’s them putting their hopes and dreams on me. I don’t have that. Sure, having a job I like, a nice place to call home, someone to share it with… That’s all good. That’s all stuff I want. But it’s all with one common goal in mind: to be happy. So the job doesn’t matter all that much, as long as I’m happy. And the home doesn’t matter that much either, as long as I feel safe when I’m there. And the person to share it with? I hope to meet him someday, but there’s no rush. And in the mean time, I’m not any less happy. I still smile and laugh like my life depended on it. I’m pretty sure it actually does.

Here’s the thing though. The reason why I’m an idiot from time to time. I love being happy, showing that happiness to the world, letting that smile roam freely, because that’s just who I am. I really am that person who has no sense of proper manners, who just is. I used to think of myself like a wild animal. I still do actually, except for the wild-part now. I’ve been able to tame my personality. I’ve been able to recognize situations where I don’t let it all out, so I give people some space and time to slowly get used to who I am. My first impressions are always the worst. People are always astounded, because I can reign it in, but never completely. So the chances are pretty much stacked against me when it comes to first impressions. That’s why I’m a big fan of the do-over. The second impression. Or the third. As many as I need. As many as I’m given. Because as simple as I am, most people are complex and don’t understand why my mind does the things it does. Often I don’t know myself, but I’m used to it so I just go with it. And then, slowly, as I notice people getting used to me being me, I push it out a little more. And I let the animal out of its cage. Slowly. Ever so slowly. And only when I trust no harm will come to anyone. Which is the point of failure for me. I don’t always know when I’ll end up hurting someone, or myself. I guess it doesn’t make me an idiot per se, it just means I’m not done yet. I’m not done trying to figure it all out. But how can you know for sure? That letting it out won’t hurt someone? Can my smile fix all? Or is that too simple, even for me?

A flower is only temporary. But that makes me cherish its beauty all the more.
A flower is only temporary. But that makes me cherish its beauty all the more.