Im home right now in the great Rio Grande Valley. I wasnt quite welcomed with open arms. As matter of fact, I never really have been. Being here is never the most pleasant experience because of my struggle with myself. I love my family immensely; however, every time I come to visit, I find myself closer to my sister and mom and distanced from my father. It seems that as my father and I grow older we become increasingly different people.
My struggle with myself starts with who I am. I am an idiot, it seems, by nature. My entire existence has been handed to me on a silver platter. I understand that most people would say that I am an asshole for thinking I have problems, and if youre one of those people, youre right. I am an asshole. Ive taken my life for granted. Ive thrived only off of my fathers success and have adopted his identity as my own. As I journey through life I begin to realize that my father is the ideal father, and I am a terrible son.
Allow me, if I may, to explain my person. I am an idealist of sorts. I will strive to make people happy at any cost, without really incurring any cost myself. I am a selfish giver. My person is a complex one, riddled with inconsistent actions and thought. My mind is immature and full of ideas without the will to express them. I am jealous, I am happy, I am sarcastic and kind, I am polite, I am blunt, I am shallow, I am stupid, I am smart; but most of all I AM HUMAN. I feel comfortable saying that I exhibit the qualities of a perfect human. Not because of any physical or personal perfection in an idealistic sense as set forth by society, but in the way the Holy Bible describes Adam and Eve to be human. Sure I am easily tempted, but I act on it and fall to my own demise, wallowing in my own emotional excrements, only hacking away at my trench destined for a complete personal pitfall.
That just jogged my thought a bit. Think about this:
When you sit amongst your friends, you sometimes say something funny. We all laugh and as a result you say something else funny to add to the humor momentum and it just keeps going until it hurts. Likewise, when we weep, we sometimes think of other things to make us feel sorry for ourselves, and keep thinking to keep increasing our sorrow. And then it all stops.
Like my dad says, Im about to enter a world where everyone struggle to get where they are. And me? Im entering with a silver spoon in my mouth.
The world is going to bury me alive, and I wont even know it.
Get ready. Here I come.
Happy Diwali.
-Rasta
