My life is ineffable. Sometimes I wonder if my life can be counted as an oxymoron. So sour, yet so sweet. An organized madness. Sane insanity? When one thing happens, another follows; being contradictory to the first. Or maybe an anaphora? Always starting the same tedious way, but always ending differently. Perhaps my life is an idiom. Not many understand how my life goes through its day-to-day basis — possibly being no one except me. How arduous life seems to my eyes, however, it appears to be the simplest and “effortless”, implying that I do not have to work to achieve or receive something from others. Despite the fact that they have never lived a day I have, they still decide to give me a non-asked-for opinion about my life.
Every chilly morning (I live in Canada), I attempt to predict what will be the enlightenment of my day, what will be benightedness, what knowledge I will acquire today, or what will make today different from yesterday. After all, life gives us a second chance in the form of “tomorrow”. Of course, my predictions are not always correct. Nevertheless, even if they do not come true that same very day, they will, another day — and have on every occasion.
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The air was ripe with the pleasant petrichor of the post-rain afternoon. Walking back from school, I reflected on my day. Did my predictions come true? Yes. What made my day differ from the previous? A new student joined our class today — Natasha. She was the cynosure in our school today, which made her feel uncomfortable. I, in my opinion, was quite friendly and nice to her. I will say, I could discern she had something keeping her mind busy and she appeared to be a little discombobulated throughout the day: maybe she misses her old school, maybe her old friends? That is the issue about it; you never know what is going through one’s mind yet occasionally you might be able to tell whether or not it is a nice or a bad thought by one's minutiae facial expressions.
Before tomorrow felt absurd for once: signifying that my life can no longer be counted as an anaphora. Why was it absurd? It just was. I am incapable of explaining it, for the reason that it is impossible. It is something one does not talk about to another; everyone just has the knowledge about it and has had a day that felt absurd or out of place at least once in their life; this is an example of an idiom. Notwithstanding how the day felt, my predictions came true.
While contemplating the effervescence in the puddles as the rain kissed the top of my head, I realized that even the simplest everyday things are bijou, whether it is a pearl or a drop of rain. After the rain ended, it left behind only the petrichor-smelling zephyr, which just calms any situation. The one that makes everyone’s day slow down, just so they can enjoy the pleasant momentum. However, the delightful momentum got interrupted by the realization that homework still has its existence.
Thus, I skipped dinner and sprinted to my room to finish my homework. Regrettably, I spent most of my time fantasizing about that momentum. Fantasizing about that alluring moment; how many people encounter that after-rain momentum every day? Every minute? Maybe every second? No doubt those questions will be leaving my mind soon. Well, I suppose, as lost as Alice and as mad as the Hatter, no?
Today’s night seemed a little eerie as well. Habitually, if the day felt different, then the night would feel normal; or the other way around. Whereas today, both day and night felt … mismatched: suggesting that my life can no longer be counted as an oxymoron. I suppose this elimination of “what can my life be?” will lead me to the answer to my question: what is my life?
Awaiting for life itself to reveal the answer, I enjoyed my Sunday morning coffee on the porch. I was struck by a moment of sonder as I gazed around my front yard and at all the people passing by. My mind was engulfed in deep thought. The thought somewhat just eliminated “idiom” as the answer to my life. How? Well… does not every person have secrets that only the closest family members and friends know about; things, inside jokes, anything actually, that only they and/or their family/friends understand? Can someone’s life be as preposterous and confusing as mine? Now, the more I think about it… the more the chances there seem to be.
Becoming more aware of how ephemeral each day, a week, a month, a year, and even life is. In addition, I eventually figured out what my life is: it is not an oxymoron, not an anaphora, nor an idiom, and neither simple — it is balance.
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