"Our everyday lives may, in fact, be a series of miracles."

The other night I found myself staring at my messy bed wondering if Sisyphus would be at his happiest if he were to just lay down at the foot of the hill for all of eternity. I turn 23 this year and I have not made my bed a single day of my life. I thought back to around five years ago when I first entered college. I remembered seeing the shy faces of those who would blend into my high school class posting pictures of their newfound outgoing faces, blending in with the brothers and sisters of the frats and sororities they were rushing into. I would press the like button with a smug expression thinking to myself how I was still the same person I had always been.

In that moment, in the middle of the night staring at my messy bed contemplating all of this nonsense, there was probably nothing I wanted to do more than to go back in time and smack the shit out of my 18 year old self. When did I become so jaded? When did I first hand in a paper late? When did I first skip class? School is probably a bad example, though. I think it’s only natural to get fed up with something you’re forced to do for 15 or so years. But it’s also not hard to get fed up with things you’ve not been forced to do for 15 or so years. It seems that with everything I have taken seriously in my short life, I eventually hit a wall; a wall that is reached when talent runs dry and it can only be scaled with effort. It is then when I decide to lay down and rest for all of eternity, alongside all of the film rolls I will never develop and all the useless frame data I have memorized.

This is not to say that we will all find success if we work hard enough, I don’t think this is true at all. I can’t really speak for how the other half lives, but while they may be thinking their effort will eventually let them scale this wall and reach the top, I now think they seem more like fools carrying a boulder up a mountain and not realizing that this phantasmal peak is incredibly temporary, if it even exists at all.

So yeah, way more likely than not we will all live mundane and boring lives. But does fulfillment have to be so fleeting? Probably not. Camus imagines Sisyphus to be happy (or for a weab like me, Junpei never leaves the dunes). I’m starting to think that I’d rather live a fulfilling life than a jaded one. I’d probably be happier that way. The first step is accepting that both reaching the top and staying at the bottom of this hill are futile endeavors. But that is easier said than done. I didn’t make my bed this morning. But to be honest, I think it’s stupid to do so if you’re not expecting any guests.

I could settle with not being a mega genius