It Feels So Scary Getting Old

I’ve never felt more alone…

This is my memento mori. | Photo by me.

“When I look back on my life, it's not that I don't want to see things exactly as they happened; it's just that I prefer to remember them in an artistic way.” – Lady Gaga, Marry The Night: The Prelude Pathétique, 2011.

I vividly remember hearing these words over a decade ago. Young me was in front of our television, getting ready for school, when my favorite music channel bared the face of a woman who – unbeknownst to me at that time – would change my life forever. This wasn’t the first time I’ve seen her, though. But, this was the first time I understood that life isn’t all blue skies and butterflies.

Sometimes, the World is Praying for Our Downfall

I think one of the pills I have to swallow growing up is the fact that pain and suffering are essentially on the other side of the same coin where joy and happiness are. Berate me if you must, but I was naive and I once lived where my bubble protected my innocence (unlike now, lol). There was a time when my problems were choosing whether I’d watch cartoons or a teleserye and, oftentimes, I would choose the latter.

However, now, I get to see some of the world’s biggest and toughest problems, and it doesn’t take mere “teamwork” for them to be solved. Wonder Pets lied to me; teamwork doesn’t always work – especially when you’re going against an entire system that’s tenfold bigger than you, stronger than you, and has more power than you. You can’t simply gather your friends and tell Capitalism to go fuck itself. Unfortunately, you’d only end up with Capitalism fucking you over and over – and you just gotta have to suck it up, buttercup!

Speaking of Sucking It Up

Growing old also means accepting things because there’s really no other options. No matter how much you cry, sulk, or curse at the wind, things will happen as they are planned out to be. The more you resist, the more you’d end up hurting yourself.

If this sounds like a breakup to you, it’s because it is. Though, maybe not of the romantic kind. There’s nothing I truly value in this world other than the people whom I’ve chosen to be my family. Blood isn’t always thicker than water, besties. And so, I’ve built relationships with people who I know will get my back as much as I got theirs – ‘cause that’s what families do, or at least that’s how they ought to be. However, what must I do if, one day, they’d simply decide they don’t want to do anything with me or with the other members of the family we’ve built? To quote Adele, should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements (er, sidewalks for some parts of the globe)? Is there any use to chasing people who have already made up their minds? Young me would say yes, but the current me would probably say goodbye…even if they’ve denied me of that closure.

But No Closure Can Sometimes Be the Closure

As funny as it may sound, silence says a lot – probably more than what we’re willing to recognize. The eerie silence that fills up an awkward room is usually the same silence that gives you enough comfort to allow yourself to find peace. It would be too foolish not to recognize that. While we’re often used to getting all answers to our questions, I’d like to think that it’s sometimes better to leave things as they are and see that as the closure in and of itself. Looking back, the times I’ve spent wondering could’ve been better used elsewhere. This isn’t me being too harsh on myself, rather this is me trying to learn and being mature enough to accept that I can’t be any more if I am (or have been) less or, worse, empty. It’s true: focusing on what you have left is better than focusing on what went away. However, we all know that’s easier said than done. It’s always easier to focus on the glaring holes on a canvas than on the art itself.

I don’t know what the reason for anything or everything is. I am also not seeking it. True, it might feel good to find answers, but is it really worth getting all the pain in the process? Are we born in this world only to endure pain and gaslight ourselves to make us believe that it’ll all be worth it in the end? What if the end isn’t what we’re seeking? What if what’s at the end is nothing more important than the crumpled paper we throw at garbage cans when we’re bored? What if life doesn’t really have a purpose and we’re all just bags of meat that chemicals accidentally created? There are so many questions, and I fear the answer to them. However, we don’t need any more answers than there are questions.

Art for art’s sake can exist even without an audience. We create what we can, in the short amount of time that we have, and I think that’s the artistic skill innate in all of us. We are all painters and sculptors of our own lives, even if our tools are sometimes shitty – some more than others, obviously. But at the end of the day, it’s ours. It’s an art we’ve committed to making so that others may see the beauty or learn from things. And I think that makes life just a tad bit less scarier.