4 min read


"You are born with no expectations? Are you joking?"
– Exodus, some unknown retreat

I was born out of the blue with an irresistible urge from my parents to find something to work for. I am most certainly grateful for such a desire, since receiving assistance from two well-educated and experience humans is the most a baby could ever ask for.

The past process of my nurturing need no better description than the word "meticulous." I was a pristine chunk of terracotta, ready to be carved into animistic existence. That existence will perhaps haunt my parents in the near future in the form of a vexed being that no other parent can experience – since the others are not my parents. That being said, the meticulous process takes weird turns and loops from time to time, and I'm sure the process had been somewhat progressive. But that process of sculpting, after the initial stages, perhaps would be easier with inanimate objects – with pure terracotta for example. That, as all other children of the world exhibit, is not the case. That very animistic nature of children and that very unpredictable behavior of children, create a sense of "annoyance." This "annoyance" that a parent experiences with the recessive and expansive cycles of a juvenile youth is simply rough. The parents are overwhelmed with the urge to meticulously nurture the child of their past creation, and hopefully of their future creation too; while the child is there, roaming in their wonderland of illogical long-term decisions and temporary creativity.

I still do not know, and perhaps will never know, what the eyes of the parents see until I myself have transformed into a parent – that, from my current view, is as far as traveling to Mars (honestly, that could be closer). All jokes aside, I do not know what I look like, psychologically, almost at any moment – I do not see myself, through my current self or a future self. It is just not possible.

Now, about the current stage. I am still an immature and still flexible, though no longer as flexible, chunk of terracotta – all that is to imply about my rectifiability, from what, I don't know. But let us keep the hope, at the current stage at least, that whatever in me that requires rectifying, it is still not so stiff and concrete, since if that is not the case, my parents, specifically my mom, would be very sad. Now the main problem here is absolutely some form of Absurd. As you know, I am, by age, a grown adult – even if my mental stability and insights might suggest otherwise. Therefore, I would love to see myself as some knowledgeable adult, the latter I sure am, that can have that righteous perspective in the Absurdity around me. I'm sure I do have some valid perspectives, and I am sure my mom would not reject such a statement, but she does. I have to say first, that I absolutely acknowledge and am aware that I do not have everything pinned down – I have, and forever will have, a lot of things to rectify and improve upon. I also understand the urge for my parents to perform any possibilities of rectification foreseeable in their own eyes, before I reach my low point in rectifiability. As a matter of fact, those are the very reasons that I still, regardless of reflective and resistive impulses that arise, listen carefully to what they have to say. Another part of the reason is, as I've said earlier, the fact that many of their earlier "accusations" were indeed valid, agreeing with ones that I have gotten hold of/revealed along the way.

I listen, and I listen, and I can't seem to find the sense out of what their long enthusiastic speeches of faults, wrongdoings, and bad habits on me is suppose to entail. I sure hear the words, and the words by themselves do makes sense, sometimes clearly through my past behavior, sometimes somewhat through my recent behavior, and sometimes clearly through my recent behavior. The problem is, as time progress, as I keep listening, these criticism mostly lie in the second category – the one that I cannot in gods name actually make use of, since I don't see the clear faults and reasons, and the clear resolutions that they are trying to point out. Perhaps my mind, after years of uncontrolled development, is still in that stage where I cannot see the reason, if there exist any, before I take hold of them in the future, in the present time.

I simply cannot.

So, here is the Absurd: I have no way of knowing it, unless I know it; I cannot know it unless I go past the present, while the goal is to prevent it, whatever it is, in the present; I cannot fully reject what they are saying, given my utter will to do the "right thing," unless I know what they are saying is either partially or entirely wrong, which I have no way of knowing, since that is the property of myself I am trying to change and understand about.

So, what do I do? Time allows no hesitation, no hesitation means perfect revelations or vegetative progression regarding this issue, neither of which I possess or can achieve.

This problem is not solved through writing, but I will put a mark to it...



I have tried to convince them, not once or twice, but multiple times, that their criticism is not making any sense on me, that I believe they are invalid, and I will continue to do what I have been doing, with the wish only to receive criticism that I can legit comprehend. BUT, that has done nothing – nothing has changed, and perhaps nothing will. And while I am bogged down in the weird oscillation between recognizing I am wrong, and doubting that very reflection, I have "nowhere" to go.

"So be it," the women said, and with that the boy swiftly responded, "But I don't want to be that, I want to be that!"