I feel like an outcast just by being aware of who I am and knowing no one else is exactly like me.

I am stepping shy into my unique place – that tiny place in this world that only I can fill. I shiver while embracing my unmatched combination of qualities and defects and gradually understanding the change agent I become for what surrounds me.

Resisting many years to see and accept what’s mine, I fought unimaginable battles with myself.

And in those battles, I forgot to live many times. I was either in the past, remembering what I had won or lost, or strategizing the next confrontation. As a result, I behaved like I owned eternity, forgetting that the only eternal thing I’ll ever access as a human is the present moment.

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

When I am here and now wholly aware, when I see what I see, hear what I hear, and feel what I feel, memories ignite and remain forever in my mind and soul. Emotions transcend the body making every cell effervescent and impregnated with that boundless energy of myself, of the surroundings and people, with that remembrance of the thought, and that vibe of the soul. And what mind, soul, and body engineer simultaneously it’s projected in the infinite quantum world where all is remembered and yet to be lived concurrently. Eternity rises from the ashes of time and focalizes in a single spark of now. The beginning of what’s to come and the end of what was coexist in the present time. „Now” is the beginning and the end. And this moment is one that never comes back. Not in this place, not with these people, not with this me.

Being numb and acting on other people’s stories brings forgetfulness and disconnection, and sometimes suffering. I miss moments burnt by the past. I miss my life, my play, and my choices. But, unfortunately, I often choose not to choose, which fuzzes my being. And it makes me again senseless, throwing me back into oblivion that only my body remembers. I try to forget the forgetfulness, yet I am stuck in a thoughtless and soulless remembrance kept by my body alone. Then I know to return from the ashes of my time to the present, to recall what’s mine, and reclaim my spot: when thoughts and emotions can’t remember the story or any vivid memories. They can’t because it’s not my story nor my finale.

In my tale, I always know who I am, what role I play, what choices I make or not, and where I belong, which is odd and remarkable simultaneously, even for me.

For you, how is it?