Ephemeral Living
When I think of some of the toughest times I've gone through, I see a commonality between most, if not all, of them - a daft expectation of experiences & people, sprinkled with a pinch of the dirty stench of nostalgia.
This daft expectation is so subtle when you're IN the moment - you only realize the horrible mistake you have made in retrospect. I'm deeply uncomfortable with having free time, because on the off chance that I am not in conversation, not feeling tired or dazed, not in the middle of work - those phases of life come back to me in terribly long flashes.
Almost every night, I wish I could feel my cat(s) rubbing against me while I slowly faded off to sleep. Almost every weekend, I wish I could feel the blissfulness of a Sunday as completely as I used to. Almost every month, I spend a little time reminiscing routines with people that once were - the getting ready together before you rush off to work, the multi-stop Uber rides, and the late-night unplanned dinners.
These flashes, for me, brings about an unfortunate tug-of-war between wanting to relive these moments once again and being averse to putting myself in similar situations. While I sometimes long to maybe have another cat, I also feel that I can't once again possibly put myself in a place where I can't live without them. The latter is a stronger argument in my mind.
What I've realised I cannot afford to be doing is creating more of these situations for me to reminisce about, even at the cost of missing out on a little bit of fun.
It might be a tiny bit sad, but I am beginning to be very comfortable with looking at every experience like it will not last.
I think it's (unacceptably) real for people to come to terms with the fact that I am walking into everything now with the preconceived idea that there will be a time when this ends too. In essence, everything is a phase, everything is ephemeral, nothing & nobody stays and I will eventually stop seeing you how I see you now.
Ephemeral living, every moment lasts only for a moment.
