It’s funny how we can reduce the complexity of our lives into numbers and dates. From the day that we were born and to how long we will live. It’s funny because we’re so busy creating these wonderful and heart stopping memories when in the end, they can be reduced into how many times it happened and what date it was.
In the end, we don’t remember what we were wearing, what made us laugh that day, what made us cry. All we remember is that we were happy. In the end, we try to count how many times have we been happy? Does it outnumber the times we were frustrated? When we were angry or mad? Is that what tells us whether we’ve lived a good life or not?
But if my life right now can be reduced into numbers and dates here’s what I have:
Feb 26 – where it all began
March 19 – where this is going
March 26 – the first among the many
April 2 – I saw you succeed
April 9 – I saw you gave your best || maybe the first and last time you’ll see me debate in a competition
May 3 – you met my friends
May 6 – when we patch things up, by reassuring each other
May 23 – my day
June 5 – the day
27 days – until the day
Oct 10 – your day
It’s easy to look back at your calendar and messages and see the messages that made you stop for a second and think “what did I ever do to deserve this?” but there’s something I want to prove; life cannot be reduced into numbers.
I don’t know how many times you’ve made me happy
How many times you’ve stopped me from crying
How many messages we’ve sent to each other
How many times we’ve walked the same streets on our way home
How many hugs and kisses we’ve shared
How many times we’ve said I love you
I don’t know when we started going home together
When exactly I started liking you
When we started telling people we liked each other
When you told your parents you we’re courting someone
When I realized I love you
Some of the things here, I’m sure if I look hard enough, I can find the answer to. The reason why I can’t answer most of these is simply because I lost count. I’m sure if somewhere I kept a notebook and kept track of all the times I was happy, I can answer my own questions. But that idea in itself is impossible. What does this tell us?
Life is not meant to be reduced into numbers and dates.
It’s not meant to be reduced at all.
We’re supposed to take in whatever life can offer us. We try to immortalize every event, every scenery, every moment because we cannot fully capture the exactness of it with only human capability. We could only hope our memories are good enough, and viruses aren’t strong enough to corrupt virtual memories.
But this whole message is a contradiction itself. A half baked and half made message not meant for the world. But meant for one. I guess that’s what happens, when you’re finally in love.
Hi, you were waiting for this?
ofthoughtsandillusions 