Baqar's Blog

Sure, my life alone is meaningless. But what if everyone began to think this way? What if everyone fell into despair at the feet of their powerlessness? What if everyone thought all their efforts were, in fact, meaningless? Wouldn't the world as we know it cease to exist? Then, does this mean our lives are - in fact - meaningful?

 Part of me wants to learn Korean, while part of me is satisfied reading the subtitles. Part of me tells me to quit my job, but part of me tells me I need the money. Part of me tells me to start my own agency, whereas part of me wants to rest. Part of me seeks love and validation, though part of me believes isolation is independence. Part of me wants to crack a stupid joke; however, part of me is too reserved. Part of me wants to write this blog, yet part of me is fearful of what others think. Part of me knows there will be a reader; nonetheless, part of me argues on why that even matters. Part of me wants to move on — albeit part of me holds that memory dear. Part of me wants to pursue a Master's degree, despite part of me worrying about my wellbeing. Part of me wants life and time to stop — even though part of me hopes for something to happen. Part of me wants to part away, but it just can't.

I often wonder, when given the option to choose to travel to the past or to the future, why do I always choose the future? Is it because I had no regrets in my life? Is it because I am too excited about the future? Is it because I cannot face my past once again? Is it because going back to the past makes me look like a loser? Is it because choosing the future makes me look cooler? Or is it because I never made any memories worth looking back at?

I have always thought about the purpose of our existence and the staggering absurdity behind the workings of this world. Maybe we are all characters in a divine story. Maybe that is why we have wars. Maybe that is why there's injustice. Maybe that is why no one - no matter how hard they try - can foresee the future. Well, if we are actually a part of a heavenly theatrical performance, what would my role here be?  The main character? Too shy and cowardly for that.  A side character? Too absent for that.  A background extra? Too arrogant for that.  Maybe my existence transcends all these roles. Maybe I am a bookmark. A bookmark that forces you to stop, take a breather, and assimilate all that has happened to you before moving ahead.