It All Boils Down to a Vacuum Cleaner

It’s that time of the year for me again when most people rejoice and commemorate the day that their mother’s water bag broke and curse their father off to the most excruciating execution for causing that much pain as they shoot them off of her vagina – and this day is also known as birthday! Yes you heard me, that was called birthday. Oh so what if I’m cynical!?! Sue me! I’m just tired of this yearly event and right now it does not serve that good of a purpose to me as I step into a new decade of countless who-knows-what. How did I get here? I mean, I hope somehow someone in some parallel universe has a perfect explanation for what I have become. I used to be the person with utmost interest to save the world. The one with the greatest attributes to make this world a better place; now I’m just an exhausted soul buying Vacuum Cleaner as a birthday present for myself and actually finding bliss with the thought of cleaning my apartment during this day, numb with all the calluses carved on me by various circumstances both fortunate and unfortunate. I used to care so much about what others go through and what they think and if they are with great values and how I can help them. I was gonna build a community, adopt the homeless, nurture the abandoned babies, nurse the ailing and help people reach their dreams and ambitions. Where did it all go? I’m flabbergasted by how much my life took a completely different spin and I sat there watched it all happened as if I’m helpless and could not stop anything for taking place no matter how wrong it felt. The sad part is in this moment, as guilty as I feel for letting my dream slip away I find myself nonchalant about it. The feeling of defeat somehow becomes familiar that it broke all my strength down to pursue the goodness in me as though I am this evil person who will watch someone die in front of me and I won’t even bother to blink. Sometimes I sit in the dark and go through this extensive inquisition with myself to search deep down who or what I really am; at some point it frightens me that I could not seem to find the answer. Like today I’m beat and yet I could not sleep so I opted to blog instead while Sarah Mclachlan tortures my invisible emotions. All my memories of the last decade suddenly come rushing in and I felt pins and needles aggressively poking the left side of my chest which most people calls heart. I wept for something beyond my level of comprehension. All these people in my life seem like these fragments of my imagination and I’m deliberately flushing them down the drain while my solitude brings me to ecstasy. How can some find great pleasure in loneliness? Is it because I failed to follow my dream so I subconsciously punish myself by isolating me from the company of people that I enjoy?
Is my guilt so powerful that it eliminates my reasoning from justifying the things I deserve regardless if I failed or succeed? It might take more than a session of sitting in the dark to analyze the events in my life which I have lost control over. Must I lose interest in the things that used to make me realize my existence? I sure hope not. I should never cease to be compelled to seek for that real purpose I once thought I got all figured out. Life appears to be an infinite search of its core sense before one find profound happiness and sometimes people find the answers back to where they started.
Little did I know; it might be the case for me but now it doesn’t feel like it yet.

All I know is, on my birthday I’m using the vacuum cleaner I bought as a present to clean my apartment – that is already making me smile.