Chasing After Sandcastles

 

 

I am unhappy. Despite the automatic smile on my face, there’s a longing in my heart that I’m not quite familiar with. So I begin every single day trying to quench this thirst, even though I don’t know what it is exactly I’m thirsty of.

 

I am unguided. The emotions my heart feels and the thoughts that linger on my mind are what dictate my every action. Though I know these shouldn’t be my guide, my feet don’t have any other choice. Not now.

 

I am undetermined. There are changes in life I know I need to do. Some I conquer with gladness in my heart, but I still feel weak. I know I still have a lot to face. I want to witness myself conquer every internal battle. I want to take the torch and run so effortlessly and freely, despite the doubts this world gives me.

 

I am uneducated. I keep living life waking up as the same person I was the day before, with the same challenges to face. I need help but I don’t exactly know how to find a compromise that would satisfy my heart yet make me progress in this life.

 

I am unimportant. A mere speck in this world with no gigantic contribution to actually matter. Sometime, I ask if there are going to be people around me when it’s time to face trials or defeat. I want to make a mark, not by the things I am, but by the things I do for other people. However, I know there’s a long road ahead of me for me to actually achieve that.

 

I am inconsistent. That’s why I run in circles and daunted with this feeling of despair. How can I achieve the things I want to? How can I get there when I can’t even see a bridge or a helping hand? I have scarce resources, especially faith.

 

But I am breathing. It’s my eternal excuse. It’s my reason for living, albeit desperately. To worship the Almighty is something I almost completely disregarded. There is almost no instance when I actually stop and acknowledge His greatness. Yet I breathe and live every second. No interruptions, just obstacles.

 

I’m not writing this as a way to gain hope. There’s no definite reason except the fact that I am so burdened with loneliness but I have no one to talk to. Therefore, I write. I just want to be special for even just a couple of people. So that every time I feel exasperated, I can count on someone to listen and make my life matter no matter what.

 

A friend to lean on is worth more than everything I have been chasing for recently. But sadly, I don’t have that commodity. I reach out to my keyboard and type my heart out, wishing, deep inside, that somebody would care enough to get to this point, be concerned with my wellbeing, ask me how I feel, and make time to let me share my soul and listen to me.

 

But I’m not expecting. I know everybody is busy with their own desperations that no one would care enough to read this wordy entry. I know the seed I’ve sown are so, so scarce. I know my selfishness, my wicked ways. But in time, it will change. I will fight for my life to change because I want to be happy.