May I take you back to August last year? I may? Oh, you’re too kind.
On the day before my A level results, I was reading my Facebook feed only to be welcomed by the same status update by many of my friends. I cannot remember what it was, but the majority of my friends were panicking over their results, either losing sleep over their unknown future, or just feeling jittery over the whole situation.
And all I can think of is one thing.
It’s just another day.
I know. I will have those four words on both my business card, my CV and my gravestone. I’ve said it about Christmas, about my birthday, and now my A level results.
Okay, some things in my lifetime won’t be just another day. I might get married, that won’t be just another day. Neither would the birth of my children (ha). Or, and I hate to say it, the death of someone close. Other than those potential events, with only one of those situations being escapable, every other day is just another one that we have to live through.
But, at this point in time, staring down the gun of three barrels. In one, the bullet filled with the odd chloride. The other, a bullet filled with electrons racing around it. The last one, a bullet filled with the sweet sound of failure. Or, if you haven’t guessed it yet, the chambers and bullets represents what I took in A level – Chemistry, Physics and Music Technology. If I passed all with flying colours, all three chambers would dissolve in a cocktail of colour and sound. If I failed, all bullets will fill my body with despair and doubt. Happy thoughts for an eighteen year old boy.
On the day, though, it turned out to be a triple dose of deluded disaster, as I discovered that I earned three D’s in the three subjects. That meant that all three bullets fired, only to miss me by a nanometre, and I was safe to walk into my course of choice in university. My friends? Well, they worried for nothing as they flew to good grades, though a minority had trouble getting into university for some reason or other. But that’s not the point.
What the thing is, am I wrong to think that every day that happens is just another day? I mean, a more recent example is New Year’s day. Everyone, from Sydney to Moscow, celebrated the birth of a new year. As the news graced my television, I gazed at the fireworks. Only one thought filled my mind.
What was that thought? Well, isn’t it obvious?
Why? Why all this?
I knew perfectly why. People want to have the chance to put the past behind them, and look forward to the future. And what better time than when a new calendar graces the walls of your home? Well, I’m guessing that’s what people want to do, I haven’t really met everyone in the world.
For some reason, I saw that day as just a reason for everyone to get drunk. Which it is, isn’t it. But I’m not going to bore you with all that, since you probably already know what I think of that from my other letter to you. Ho hum.
Anyway, I will pose a question to you, how can I rid myself from this ideology that has taken residence in my brain? How can I stop thinking that every day is just as normal as the next (bar a few examples)? Answers will be greatly appreciated on a postcard.
Though, the problem might not be the fact that I see every day as just another one that we must endure before our final slumber. Maybe it’s the way I see the days that is the problem. I can’t help to see that the world is a cruel place for some reason. A place that gives little hope or kindness. I have no idea why I do, but I do.
Maybe, if I saw every day as a blessing, a good thing, maybe things would have turned out differently. Then again, if I did, I wouldn’t be here writing these things. So it’s swings and roundabouts then.
I thank ye, world.
Image: Rights Reserved by Ben Heine
Past Dear World articles from CrazyDistortion Sub-Editor include topics such as Guitar Hero, Death, Drink & Drugs, God, Modern Life, Nationality, Facebook’s NSPCC Campaign, Christmas and X Factor And Christmas Number One