Humans are so weird.
Sometimes I wonder why I think about the concept so much. We are bizarre creatures. We idolize ourselves far too much, yet we are so self-conscious. Ask any random person on the street if they love others more than themselves, and I guarantee they will answer “yes.” Yet, why do we lead our lives so selfishly? Working to sustain ourselves, working to put ourselves ahead of others in aspects that truly are not important.
I speak in generalities. I believe in a fine balance. Meaning, as many spiteful, selfish, cowardly people humans as there are on this globe, there are equally as many selfless, courageous beings. As many lazy, indifferent people as their are, there are equally as many people aching to feel alive with every ounce of their being. I don’t think there’s even an explanation for it, I think we just react to and within one another in such a particular way, that we end up forming almost a mirror within ourselves.
I suppose what it comes down to (at least for me) is perspective. Not ignorance, no. We as a society must recognize both sides of humans, for without the other half, they are each nothing. It is the perspective that sets us apart from others, and we must constantly remind ourselves that no one will ever see your perspective as you do, as you will never see theirs.
Or does it even matter? What does life in itself come down to, anyways? Does it come down to your final moments? I envision it does. Your last few breaths of sure certainty that this is the end, and facing yourself with that omnipresent question: how was it? And knowing full-well which answer you’ll choose, and whether or not you’ll be happy with it. What if you are? What if you aren’t?
Everyone will be different.
And that is the simple and beautiful truth about humans, and understanding the fact that they will never be understood.
I sat down at the small table, caressing my coffee cup as if it were hooked up to an IV that was saving my own life. My best friend sat opposite me, doing the same. It was a deceitfully beautiful day outside, with bright blue skies and a glaring sun. Yet, it was so frigidly cold that those who favor outdoor winter sports were sporting their snowboarding and skiing jackets simply to go about their day.
“So,” I said, after successfully burning my tongue out of my eagerness for my daily cup of heaven, “when are we going on that road trip? I’ve already started looking around, and there are a few national parks we can choose from. We definitely want to do a lot of hiking and camping, and maybe some rock climbing thrown in. I want fabulous pictures from wherever we go. It’s a priority. So what do you think?”
She shifted in her seat, her eyelids heavy with laziness. “Look, I don’t know dude. I know I said that I’d go, but I’m really not up for hiking.”
“Well how do you know how you’ll feel when we leave? I’m not asking you to hike today,” I said, knowing full well that she was throwing her adventurous drive into reverse and once again, backing out on our plans.
“I don’t know, I just wish I could be adventurous.”
I put my coffee down on the fake wooden table. I sat there for a minute, absorbing the words she had just spoken.
“You wish you could be adventurous.”
“Why can’t you?”
“Well I don’t have time to do that stuff, or gear, and I don’t know if I could do it.”
My blood began to boil slightly. Maybe it was the Italian side of me, I don’t know.
“You can do whatever the fuck you want. You realize that, right? All those people who have hiked mountains or completed marathons, or scaled rocks or beat their personal time for cycling, they are doing what they want. And you will never hear them complain for even a second. You are the only person stopping yourself from doing what you want and from being adventurous. Everybody has lazy days, sure. But you’re part of this vast society of constantly lazy, complaining wishers. That’s almost as bad as saying “I wish I read books.” Here’s a concept: walk to the library or the book store and pick up a book and read it. Instead of tweeting about it or sitting here complaining to me how you wish you were more of something else, why don’t you just go and do it.”
She sat there, kind of just nodding absently.
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“About being more adventurous.”
“What do you mean?”
I nodded for a second. She hadn’t listened to a single word I’d said.
“Some people really can’t be saved, dude. Have a good day.”
I got up and walked out, opening the door into the glaring sun and the frigid winds. I think I’d rather deal with the harsh elements of adventure than the harsh elements of our society, anyways.