Undecim

It seems that when we are faced with feelings of despair we often find ourselves asking "What happened to me?", yet fail to look beyond and wonder "Who was I in the first place?". It is only when we are wondering what it was that happened to us to make things turn out the way they did that we suddenly realise that we never actually knew ourselves in the first place. Then, before we are even aware of it, we are entering a world of adulthood whereby we are forced to make decisions that impact our futures so profoundly, yet do not have sufficient knowledge of ourselves to make such informed decisions. How can we possibly be expected to choose a career based on what we enjoy when this is the very question that undermines our existence? It seems to be that the simplest questions are the hardest to answer: what do I really love? Sport, cooking, friends, nature, learning... these are admirable recreations, but what is it that draws the distinction between pastimes and passions? Some things feel like they will never get old or lose their novelity - some things feel like they are meant to be forever. So when did these things stop being fun? When did analysis and criticism become the centre of these activities, above pure enjoyment. Has the world not turned on its head when the one thing that once made you smile is now the thing that tears everything else to pieces? When the tears of laughter and joy became tears of genuine despair, frustration and hopelessness? Although I don't believe that our sole purpose in life is as frivolous as to simply 'have fun', I do believe that being happy and helping others to be happy does comprise a significant part of our existence. But if we are as self-ignorant as to not even know our true passions - what hope is there for us then?