I’ve spent most of my 17 years here on Earth observing humanity. I watched all of you as a whole live out your lives in a frenzied state. As though you were all rushing toward something but didn’t even know what you were rushing towards. Or that you were even rushing. I watched with indifference the events of this world play out. The Uprisings, the rebellions, the differences of opinions. Such odd things, we humans. We hold onto the past as though it’s something we must keep, ignore the present, as though it didn’t exist, and the future…ah that’s what really scares us, doesn’t it?
I was that kid that sat at a table all by myself. Always sat in the corners of the room as though I was more like another object in the room rather than an actual person. I brought a book everywhere with me so I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. And I would watch. And listen. I wanted to be invisible. And we often become something just by believing we are, so eventually invisible is what I became. I existed but I never lived. I existed in some 5th dimension. I was there, but not at the same time.
Now there are two things we all want. Or so it seems. First, we all want to be remembered. Second, we all (for the most part) want to belong. Just one of those things in itself is weird. Seeing as our lives on the grand scale are shorter than a mayfly, but both? Impossible. We are incapable of making a difference and still fitting into a group or a collective group of people. We, of course, can stand out with a group. Each member being unique. But wanting to fit in is so unambitious in my opinion.
Now as for wanting to be remembered….well the funny thing about the whole situation is that we want to make a difference, change the world, but we’re all afraid to do it. We all look around, wide eyed at one another like a bunch of little kids. We’re all too afraid to become someone worth remembering. And to me, that’s heartbreaking.
I’m not looking down upon anyone, if anything, I’m addressing myself. At least others tried. Me? I didn’t even try. I figured that whatever happened, happened. That was the end of it. That was just an excuse. I would just keep to myself and read stories. About people changing the world.
But the thing about all these stories that we’ve been reading and telling, it doesn’t matter that they aren’t true. It doesn’t matter that the great heroes of literature don’t exist. That they’ll fade once we do. What matters are the people who wrote them. Who dreamed of worlds where battles of good vs evil took place. Who dreamed of wild adventures and epic journeys. Who hoped and believed that it was possible for someone so great to not only exist in this world, but have the courage to leave it little better than they found it. Isn’t that all any of us can hope to do? And maybe the people who wrote them were just as scared as we are now. Scared of rejection, wanting so badly to be remembered. And they are.
And to us readers, well the authors already did their part by writing such inspiring stories…but what about us? Could we leave the world a little better than we found it? I expect so. I’ve begun to realize that just because something hasn’t been done before, doesn’t mean it’s impossible. And that as Christians, we pretty much deal with the impossible. I know atheists who are making the world a better place, lessening the suffering of others…far more than a lot of Christians I have met.
The world is full of pain and suffering. Death and destruction. Light is being drained from people’s souls. Do you face it? Will you change it? We’re given the opportunity every single day of our lives to lessen the suffering of others…but do you ever stop to take those chances? Probably not. I mean how often do you smile? Hold the door open for someone? Offer a word of encouragement? The truth of the matter is that we’re all too caught up in our own little worlds, too busy, too shy, too ‘broken’ to help others.
Still don’t think you can’t make a difference? I want you to picture the person you admire most in the world. Maybe they’ve inspired you, lifted you, encouraged you. Maybe they’re your spouse, sibling, parent, best friend.
Now I want you to picture how life would be like if they didn’t exist.
All it really takes is one.
This is your life. You are not the victim of it. And that’s something I wish I’d learned earlier. And maybe this post won’t make a difference to any of y’all, but writing it has for me. I’ll forever look back upon this when I feel like my voice can’t change anything. Because I can change the world. All of us can.
But the real question here is: