Mushy

This will be a post heavily filled with text.

You know what? Advancing, or let’s say moving on, is both good and bad. Well, who doesn’t want to move on? Some girl sure wants to move on from her ex: no more stalking on Instagram, no more putting double meaning posts on Path. But since I don’t have any love story, what I can move on from is this preparatory school and actually become a university student. Or if it were me from two years ago as the subject, I sure wanted to move on from high school and get into the university I wanted so much.

But before I get on to that, let’s suppose that life is like walking on a journey, although I find it to be a very bad metaphor. I’m not really sure why I said that though. Journey sounds romantic, it feels more like heading to a certain direction, or if I put my other interest as an explanation, journey sounds like meeting new companions, running in the forest up and down to level up, then beat the hell out of the last boss. But life isn’t like that. Most of the time, you’re not even sure of what you’re doing, and for most people on earth – those who can’t even feed themselves, those who are unfortunate, life sucks. But let’s just say life is like walking on a journey, or running if you find your life to be quick, because looking for some other metaphors might not be the best idea.

Here is my take on life as a journey. I imagine myself walking on a long stretching dirt road. It was almost dusk, but the sky was mostly still bright. The sun was there hanging close to the surface of the earth, but I was not really sure whether that’s west or south west or north west. On both sides of the road occasionally there would be short broken wooden fences, which didn't actually fence anything, they just stood there like props. Aside from the road, it’s just endless grassy plain. Once in a while I’d find trees, and if I looked into the distance, there would be some small houses gathering kilometers away without any road from those houses that connect to the one I’m walking on. There were barely any clouds in the sky, and if there were any that happened to be passing by, they would just be some small patches with curly sides like the kind of clouds that kids in kindergarten, or me in some cases draw above the twin mountains that stretch from the left to the right edge of the paper.

Somehow Radiata Stories' world comes to mind

These roads were cut into parts. You go through a few kilometers of road then you’ll find crossroad. Choose one, go through it, then you’ll find another crossroad. Sometimes there will be weird crossroads. There will be two roads, but lining side by side and you can move from one to another easily. Some other times there will also be a turning road, you’ll be taken around and somehow you’re on a whole different path but not really making any progress on your journey. The fun thing is, there are roads that can take you through small patches of forest or climbing up on a hill. You’ll repeat all of this over and over again until you find your own home, like the one I saw in the distance before. Once you find your own home, it’s your choice. You can stay there, talk to people who happen to pass by, or keep on going until you lose the last ounce of your strength. There isn't really a finish line. Even if you make it to a dead end, there is always another way you can take.

The road isn't yours alone, you’d meet people on this journey, those who coincidentally taking the same route as you. It’s not really a big deal if you met on a rather short road, or maybe you met each other on the crossroad, both mulling on which way to take. But it’s not a simple thing if you meet up from the start of crossroad, through forest, through swamp, for years, then suddenly you were put in front of a crossroad. And you both had different choices, and you both had known that your choices were different even from the time when both of you were struggling together in the swamp.

This is what I say about the good and bad of moving on. You clearly don’t want to stay in the swamp, but at the same time you wished that the crossroad never comes.

This is what I've been doing for the last two years.

Two years ago, with people who have been together with me for three years, I chose a path. Some of those people chose the same road, though. Then a year later, as consequences to my own actions, I met a different road, a road that I was kind of looking for. It can take me from the yellow skied grassy plain to the cold snowy hills. I took it because the road appeared just that one time. So I took that road and, well, detach myself from everyone else. One year through the snowy, relentless field, I met a whole bunch of people again. I’m happy. But just when I started to be satisfied with it, there, a crossroad. Again. I can see it down there.