Designed to desire and fail

Life’s indifference towards the human ambition

Your life is no longer a parent that you can cry your wants to until they shall be there. It’s no longer that soft belief that things are meant to fall into place for you. No matter how many flowers you picked until it made sense to you , that rude truth is already there whether you chose to shake its hand or turn your back.

If it was about effort , Van Gogh wouldn’t have being buried in the shadows in his lifetime only selling a couple of paintings that one can count on hand. If it was about planning , Napoleon wouldn’t kneel down so humiliatingly to the Russian cold. Fame never met Kafka , nor did money caressed Tesla’s overworked hands and Brutus’s blade couldn’t but to settle coldly behind Caesar’s back.

How could it be that life continues to disappoint us even with the softest benevolence towards our freely chosen destiny ? Why wouldn’t those conversations when the hour hand waited and stood still with that random person turn into a happy love story. Or when time couldn’t give you a second chance to redeem yourself the way you perfectly painted it in your head.

But let’s not pretend it’s just all life’s design ! History still screams all the times we gave up on ourselves , throughout our existence. How can we not remember the day we exchanged  imagination for a daily routine , desk jobs and spreadsheets? When we collectively agreed that a piece of paper is our new god , one that punishes and rewards. Or when war was the optimal answer to the most difficult human questions ?

But even individually , everyone’s guilty of killing their joy by their own hands. How many times did you break your own promises , those that made you feel alive and brought trust back in yourself ? Wasn’t it you the one who forced your hands into that inner voice whisperings just to get the others approval. Or when you looked into the mirror and thought you were not worth it , and the only answer you could find was to either seal the deal with perfection or nothing. Yet , the worst disappointment is when you forgot yourself and numbed those tears because you couldn’t stand to see your reflection  in their eyes.

But such it is , peace runs away when you pace towards it and control slips from your hand when you hold it tight. In our books. , movies and journals we romanticise that well-awaited moment of poetic justice when the villain gets the deserved punishment because we don’t get to see it often. Adrenaline rushes when the two lovers have that passionate kiss after they had every rightful reason to give up on each other . Yet still all these years of human evolution still didn’t provide a comfortable meaning to our existence that hugs our sorrows. Had one his destiny by the neck , imperfection would be nothing but a tale of the old times.

Eventually, the first human that wanted to fly , met the ground before he could touch the sky. Mercy would be the last cry  , if poverty was a man. And if one had all the ifs ,  buts and the maybes , it would be burned into ashes like its fate was only such.