Today, I watched a shared video on Facebook. You might’ve seen it before. It’s called “This is water”. Basically it’s a speech by David Foster Wallace.
It was so life-changing; the kind of writing that makes you feel so small as an aspiring writer. Everything, every word, was put together in a way I would never be able to pull off, and the ideas were so clear and coherent and down right personal. The kind of writing that feels as if it is just talking to you, and you alone.
Anyway, I was so jealous, but I had new glasses to see and question the world through. It induced a sudden moment of absolute awareness of everything (and, No, I didn’t pop any drugs!)
Five minutes later, I look up the author. He committed suicide in 2008 because of depression. My brain couldn’t function anymore. I’m sure I blew a fuse, because it is so hard living and know that the person who wrote that speech was so depressed, he took his own life. How can anyone ever be happy again after realizing this?
If you let go of everything now.
Decide to live.
If up to this point, you’ve been dead; just a bag of many wants.
If nothing you’ve done so far matters; all the pain and the grudges you hold are nothing. You have been no one.
If you will be defined by what you will do in the next second, and the next, and the next.
Who will you be?
Isn’t “now” terrifying? Standing here in the midst of life, and thinking “that’s it?”.
This is the best moment of your life, and it’s mediocre at best. The thing is: you are doing what you’re supposed to be doing. The timesheet is punched in, and you’re hunched down over a document. On the 30th, dollars are transferred in your account. Hunger never grazed you, but are you happy? If five years from tomorrow was a copy of today, would you still put in the effort to breathe?
You pay a high price for security. You fantasize about it too, don’t you? Throwing it all away.
The heck with safe.
How about you chase your dreams with a craved in stomach? How about you never sleep warm again? Without a security blanket, you’d have to succeed because your life depends on it, you think.
But there in the dark, even deeper inside of you than the self destructive fantasy, a voice of reason speaks to you; you’re not one in a million, you’re one of a million. Isn’t it terrifying? Now is not good enough, but it’s all you could ever risk to be.
Which would it be: Raise or fold?