Control is an intriguing concept to grasp. It’s a facet of human nature that lends directly to the innate desire to get everything you want. Not to be excluded, I am one of those that must know what I’m doing, when I’m doing it, and how I’m going to do it before I begin anything. I can be spontaneous but not without having the ability to change the situation should it go awry at a moment’s notice. But then again, when it comes to yourself, these trivial things are the easiest to control. It’s when matters pertain to other individuals that I’ve learned control becomes a fickle mistress. She toys with your emotions – making your loved ones ill and leaving you powerless to help, unable to change any circumstance. I’ve only half come to terms with the fact that all my loved ones will eventually die and I won’t be able to stop it. I say half because how could you ever wholly come to terms with that until it actually happens? What I have wholly come to terms with is that I have control over what happens to me before I, and my loved ones, die. I get to choose my path and how I live my life and that, in and of itself, is integral knowledge to have. The problem with this knowledge is finding the bounds and the limits are these: there is so much that I want to do and I fear that I don’t have enough time. How ludicrous a statement, not having enough time, and I’m saying this at twenty-one.
What it boils down to is that I’m just irrevocably scared of the future. I want so much and I want to do everything while I’m young. But why? Why put such a restrictive time limit on a lifetime of possibilities? Perhaps it’s because I want to be able to enjoy everything with all my physical and mental faculties in perfect sync but most probably, it’s because I’m impatient. How telling of my age. However, it’s also that I want to see the world and explore before I get chained down to a job that leaves me with only two weeks off across the entire year. Once you’ve seen one part of the world, you want to see it all and you want to see it immediately. Where my fear rears its ugly head is that I’m afraid that I won’t get to do the exploring that I want to do because “life got in the way.” I’m exasperated when I read those books, watch those T.V. specials, and hear those accounts of people who never got to see the pyramids of Egypt because they were too old or they never got to base-jump in Switzerland because they couldn’t afford it. It sounds terribly juvenile but I just can’t reiterate enough that the world is so terribly unfair to offer all of these amazing sights, experiences, and feelings only to not make them readily available to us. My poor mind doesn’t know what to think anymore.
In truth, I know I’m just an idealist. I have all these thoughts and hopes bubbling around in my head that they’re bound to get me frustrated with possibilities. I know you’re sitting there and you’re thinking that I’m crazy to get upset over these things because what’s the eternal argument that lies at the crux of all of this? I can’t control any of them. Life happens and does get in the way and does in fact prevent people from doing what they want. But there’s that word again: control. I think what it is that I’m so focused on is my inability to fully comprehend that I can’t do it all and I will never have total control. But maybe I have comprehended it enough because I’ve come to realize how important or how powerful dreams are for when they’re strong enough, they become the only things worth living for and that lack of control is thrown to the wayside.