A late night rant
A long long time ago, one of my friends sat down with me and told me some of the nicest things a person had ever told me face to face. Though time has paraphrased the exact words, and my mood distorts the emphatic quality, I hope the sentiment was sincere. He told me that I made a difference in his life, and that somehow I brought together a whole mess of people together and made a difference in their lives too. And at the time I remember reacting awkwardly, denying the extent to which I personally initiated any life changings.
But today, or tonight rather, I look back and long for that feeling again. The affirmation that something I did had a direct positive impact upon the lives and directions of the people and ideas and things I felt close to. Back then I reacted awkwardly because I didn't know how to take the compliment, but I was pleased at the results because I felt that I had put in effort to try to make good things happen, and good things had come from it.
Almost two years out in the real world, and I just keep getting dose after dose of reality checks. Friends didn't stay close, structures change, people forget as new things come into focus, and one starts to doubt whether the things she was so proud of for so long had any concrete meaning at all. If someone or something seemed to make a different in your life in one aspect, for example socially or professionally, but later down the road you end up on a path that is completely separate from those things, does that person or thing still have significance as someone that impacted your life?
Back when I was a kid, stuff like this didn't bother me as much. I reveled in the idea of continuously starting over new, but believed that the things I did were lasting in impression. And it didn't really matter because there was no way of finding out. Nowadays social media is a constant buzz feed reminding you of the things other people have done better, staying closer, achieving more, moving on better, while life on your end feels emptier and less full.
Recently one of my friends told me that he felt like the world is a smaller place than he imagined, and I couldn't help but express that I felt completely opposite. If the world was small, I think I would still feel like the things I do and did would be impactful. On the other hand, I feel like so many of the worlds I held so close are actually so far out of reach that I'm flailing around trying to make waves through space without air.
Time is a big space maker, and sometimes I wish a vacuum sealed bag could scrunch it all up so everyone could see everything and how it's related to now.
But today, or tonight rather, I look back and long for that feeling again. The affirmation that something I did had a direct positive impact upon the lives and directions of the people and ideas and things I felt close to. Back then I reacted awkwardly because I didn't know how to take the compliment, but I was pleased at the results because I felt that I had put in effort to try to make good things happen, and good things had come from it.
Almost two years out in the real world, and I just keep getting dose after dose of reality checks. Friends didn't stay close, structures change, people forget as new things come into focus, and one starts to doubt whether the things she was so proud of for so long had any concrete meaning at all. If someone or something seemed to make a different in your life in one aspect, for example socially or professionally, but later down the road you end up on a path that is completely separate from those things, does that person or thing still have significance as someone that impacted your life?
Back when I was a kid, stuff like this didn't bother me as much. I reveled in the idea of continuously starting over new, but believed that the things I did were lasting in impression. And it didn't really matter because there was no way of finding out. Nowadays social media is a constant buzz feed reminding you of the things other people have done better, staying closer, achieving more, moving on better, while life on your end feels emptier and less full.
Recently one of my friends told me that he felt like the world is a smaller place than he imagined, and I couldn't help but express that I felt completely opposite. If the world was small, I think I would still feel like the things I do and did would be impactful. On the other hand, I feel like so many of the worlds I held so close are actually so far out of reach that I'm flailing around trying to make waves through space without air.
Time is a big space maker, and sometimes I wish a vacuum sealed bag could scrunch it all up so everyone could see everything and how it's related to now.
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