Author: randoman

Caveat: A random grossly sappy scribble below. Granted, this is partially meant for the silly attention-seeking purpose, but more of capturing what I feel at this moment for future reference.

I’m about to leave the city in which I was born and raised, and unlike previous cases, I am yet to know when I would be able to come back. This should serve as an excuse for getting nostalgic.

Looking back how things came about so far, the only consistency in my life has been inconsistency.

My fickleness and the lack of tenacity to stick it out, surely contributed to the spontaneity in my life.

Basically, I have let my life evolve as it drifts and the justifications for my decisions have been mostly concocted in hindsight.

Along the way, some people came into my life and many of them have walked away.
The reciprocal nature of human interactions doesn’t allow us to engage in every social connection that we have forged to the same degree.

My disinclination to sever social connections clearly exists, but my curiosity to explore things that I have yet to encounter is also real, at this another juncture of my life. The problem is they are inherently conflicting, if not incompatible.

I view a life is to strike out the balance between these two.

The growing sense of detachment and aloofness is not pleasant, but more often than not, my stupid laziness or external expediencies (under the pretense of being hectic) prevails over the effort to stay in touch. I should have put more effort in holding them tight and vivid.

However hard I try to defy, hypocrisy has been my survival instinct. It’s so entrenched to the point of making it impossible for me to ditch it. Because of this insecurity within, it usually takes long time for me to genuinely open up my mind to others, and the chances are that I would probably not be able to forge genuince social ties with others in the future (given how spontaneous I have become).

I recognize the self-aggrandizing effort of dramatizing my petty existence is negligible in the eyes of others and worth paying zero attention.

My tiny universe has been evolving around me, not anyone else.
The obsession with myself and the paranoia associated with will probably be around as long as I care to engage in the world/society under which I operate.

As a caveat, this might be just another transient reflection of my skewed perception toward life, and by no means organized or designed to get across any sensible messages. I just want to capture exactly how I feel before it fades away, and make it as my benchmark when I have to face similar circumstances.

Getting over the loss of someone close is always a challenge, especially because I’ve been fortunate to have only few experiences in this regard yet.

That happened to be my birthday this time. After having spent a cozily busy day, I logged into Facebook, expecting the inundation of birthday wishes with which I would have been ready to reply one by one otherwise, even knowing that’s just another tedious task for both sides (who sends and receives wishes). Utterly, out of the blue, it only took several messages before I stumbled upon a news of the tragedy that had befallen to my friend.

I don’t quite remember exactly how I felt at the initial moment, but skimming through the following messages with the same news, the hazy realization gradually sinks in.

It was and has been surreal. Recognizing that a person I had spent a memorable time with no longer exists, but it doesn’t feel any change had happened to my daily life, which continues to be characterized by slight ups and downs. This may be because of the geographical distance and the inversely proximate SNS presence, for good or bad. Particularly, I don’t like the fact that I have been quite functional in putting aside personal tragic news from my daily concerns that often nudge me to preoccupy myself with fulfilling time-sensitive agendas. Even after the night-long recollection of her upon the initial notification in the midnight, my life started as usual next morning except for the sleep-deprived mind. I was pretty much able to function normally, which seemed as if I hadn’t been unaffected at all and added up my self-disgust for prioritizing my daily agenda over a brief moment for commemorating the departed. 2 weeks has already passed since the news and I have been more and more consumed by my daily such and such, letting the memories fade in my mind.

Given the memories and inspirations she had bestowed upon my life, the loss should have been devastating, but there seems to be part of me who puts my day-to-day concerns above the loss. Simultaneously, knowing that at a certain point I have to get over, I don’t know when it should be, or whether I should “overcome” in the first place.

After all, the tragedies are so rife if I take a second to glance; all the while there are people dying out there for no apparent reason as well as insurmountable injustices that are beyond our control. Since the more proximate and emotionally invested the affected person is, the greater the loss is felt, I cannot deny that the loss of a person I have shared a greater time with evokes more emotions and commemoration than unidentified masses passing away across the globe everyday. Probably, this is because they are the ones who enriched my life more directly/visibly, thus my perceived gratitude and sense of loss should be accordingly greater. However, what bothers me is; after a while even the loss of someone close seems dwarfed by my daily preoccupations. No matter how hard I defy, “Myself” has been and will continue to be the prime concern for me, giving less regard for the deceased as the time progresses.

What I’m writing here might be just a disguised justification for sucking it up and moving on.

Granted, the sense of bereavement has been gradually ebbing, but I still have a feeling that cherishing silly moments of my life should be refrained. Perhaps, funeral is the threshold after which people might feel ok to move on, but being unable to attend it for the first time, I need some contemplation to replace the shared moment of commemoration.

I happen to be fortunate to have encountered only few losses, especially considering my age, but the chances would only grow as I get older.

It’s despicable to think that I might end up getting so accustomed/numb to seeing off the departed without paying the deserving tribute to them, but it’s likely that the loss felt for each pass-away will likely to diminish as I will have to face them more and more.

However over-sentimental and self-righteous I might be pretending to be, this is how I’ve been used to. Contemplation is futile when no action is accompanied, but that’s exactly what I excel at. And again, even in the face of bereavement, there is me whose preoccupations are centered around myself.

To alleviate this internal resistance, I will attempt to frame the concept differently, even though it is anticipated the egocentric view toward life would always stick around (what I’ve been dumping here is primarily for the sake of myself after all).

Since I am one of the privileged who have been relatively insulated from the miseries of life, and spending my life comfortably despite trivial grievances, there have always been nagging doubts against shrugging off others’ miseries and moving on. However, I seemed to have been too obsessed with not “shrugging off” others’ miseries just for the sake of making myself appear highly moral.

Given the irreversiblity of one’s death and pervasive misfortunes, getting caught up with what cannot be undone to the point of being unable to move on, is itself a miserable state neither side wants.

There is just so much that is out of my control, but I can still make things better incrementally. Simultaneously, it’s also true that at this moment I have little idea how I could take my part in giving back to the people who shaped me, nonetheless.

One thing I’ve been getting clearer is squandering opportunities by indulging in excessive reminiscence is not the optimal way for paying the tribute to the ones who have lost access to such opportunities.

The better alternative should be; embodying what they have inspired me by living my life to the fullest.

Leaving the definition of ‘fullest’ aside, this seems a much better way for commemorating and paying the respect for the departed and underprivileged whose presence had given me inspirations and remembrances.

As anticipated, It might have ended up becoming a pragmatic/feigned/incoherent justification for getting over the tragedy of others, but I firmly believe taking time for commemoration and condolences is something we should dedicate ourselves to when one passes away.

I did not want to let the mere passage of time to heal what has been emptied by her loss, so rather I dared to chronicle what I feel at this moment, and I hope this could serve as a reference point at which I can come back and keep myself going in the face of tough times so as to pass on what I’ve been inspired by her.