The insatiable need to keep the order makes us question how long things can last. This is part of human nature – to doubt the beauty of the moment, to question things coming our way. Being uncertain can wreck your brain, but being certain can wreck your life.
Sometimes I wonder if coming to an end is genuinely the inevitable. To what extent this is us who decide things should cease to exist? Why everything has to be uncertain? Is it better than taking things for granted? Can we ever be sure of the world, made of millions small, yet independent particles, of another human beings. Everything can choose for itself, why would it do us a favour? Everything can be finite. This is the birthplace of uncertainty.
I always wanted to posess a dose of confidence. Not a type of confidence that comes to mind first, to speak boldly, to think freely. A completely different one, where you feel you hold life in your hands and no matter how much you shake it, it’s the way you made it. Slowly, I’m starting to realise, there is no such thing. We are just hung up in the hollow space of luck, destiny and feeling. It can lead us very far, it can lead us astray. Nothing can be definite, nothing can last forever. Depending on our own idea of eternity, we function in a time frame that’s already been set. It has chapters just like books, it has beautiful quotes and nostalgic lines. We don’t know the exact words, we just remember contexts. This is how the life goes, this is how we live day by day.
Uncertainity is integral part of things we treasure most. What has been built can fall apart at any time. Can I keep it in place with my own two hands?