AN INTERLUDE FROM THE MIND OF A FIDGET
A letter of hard pills.
Dearest reader,
To you I extend the warmest of greetings however beautiful or troubled your day is going. This author is one you’ve not come across, perhaps in this field of writing or at all. Per his fleeting inadequacies in being an author, he lost your attention from the very first word, the title of this poorly written essay or his self-deprecating manner of writing.
My condolences even, if you made it thus far, you really must be keen on what this author is about to say and are investing in it being worthwhile, well here goes nothing:
Often times, we struggle with the definition, the concept behind the fabric of the words “greatness”, “success”, “achievement”. or at least I do.
and I know what you’re thinking, “This dude is about to yap away and define what these things are, what a bozo!. We obviously know what it means to be great, successful and achieved”.
Well, if that was what you thought, I’m glad to inform you that you’re absolutely not incorrect but I beseech you dearest, to indulge me, or disagree with me. Either way, you’re winning.
These prized and lofty words are ones that a larger amount of sane humans exhaust their entire existence in search of and which quite frankly not a whole lot of us are cut out for, have the mettle for or are destined for. Hard pill to swallow?, yes, but it doesn’t make it any less a fact.
The metric for what many term as success is mostly what society find to be acceptable at said moment, ever-changing, ever-lustrous, often times a measure of material things, which in no way is less of a grande feat, but is that really what defines success?
There are a plethora of successes beyond the folds of ambiguity, glaring, staring right into our eyes but we tend to turn a blind eye towards these and focus our attention on the shine, glamour and fleetings of this mortal existence.
This author has but experienced life a little, a mere nick over 20 of bad good decisions, beautiful forgotten moments, cringe unforgettable moments, a desert of frustration, an ocean of good ones, perhaps I know a little about what success to me means, A bit conceited but since you made it this far, I’ll have you know that I’ve been running a dictatorship regime in this essay so far and it’s been working. Now sit well and let me shove what I think success means down your throat.
At the very bottom, I mean underworld-level bottom, bottom-of-the-pacific bottom, is that very ginormous success that comes with dawn, your eyes in full grace opening, your nose inhaling and your body moving at your behest. What greater success than you being blessed with one more minute, a mere second of existence. The safety from harm throughout the night to the very moment you spring awake.
However ungrateful you would be though having woken up and failed to thank He, above all that controls the very nuances of your existence. Thank your creator, Thank Allah now!!!
The very purpose to this concept called life hence comes to question. but dearest, not today, shall this be spoken of, perhaps in my next letter to you.
Second to that, is the success of a shelter, your bed however tattered, your clothes however torn, be your roof leaking, your louvre windows mostly broken, be your home with no air-con, you are successful, if you have a place to hide your head, a cloth to bolster your modesty.
"Gratitude is the shelter of the soul, and having a roof over your head is a humble reminder of life's blessings."
Third is the gift of a companion — a household, the warmth of family, the faux feud of siblings, the tolerant love of an elder, the tantrums of the youngest, the silent ones, the loud ones, the favorites, the troublesome ones. In all it’s discombobulation, chaos exists the thread, that holds all together, through thick and thin. The orphan reading this smirks, family is not all that blood ties, family can be warmth from friends, neighbours, family is what you make of your environment.
This author is tired yet hopes that his thoughts are communicated, Writing is exhausting, he says with one eye open widely shut. Here’s a blank check for you dearest.
Your success shan’t always be the shiny things, the material things, the fancy things, Your success might be in making another smile, in quenching another’s thirst. Take joy in little successes. The mind often eludes them.
From your lackluster author with love. — Draq