The Sven Journal

Whoa.

It sure has been a while. The past 2 months have been a complete and utter blur; looking back I feel as though but a couple days have gone by. Time seems to have whisked by. Nothing has happened, yet so much has. There is nothing to blame for such lack of growth, thus it becomes hard to express—or even come up with a topic, for that matter—anything. I have always been one to wear my soul and emotions right on the cuff of my sleeve, very willing to express myself. Lately, it’s not that I don’t want to show it, but more along the lines of I cannot. I lost that virtue.

Nothing has happened, yet so much as.

Living in the city is an experience that differs rather drastically than what I had originally imagined it to be. Rewinding back a half-year, I was filled with thoughts and intentions that my life would be interesting, fulfilling, diverse, and intimate. I would be able to dress well daily, eat intriguing and assorted homemade foods, and have exhaustive, devoted conversations with captivating people. Poets, artists, politicians; people with passion. However I find myself waking up in the same twin bed every morning, opening a fridge missing milk and bread, spending hours on end reading, writing, and studying, and filling every moment with worry and stress about.

As for the people, well, who knows. I am sure a good 85% of citizens around me are filled with valid opinions and gifts, however we are all shrouded in this collective isolation that we would never know. We brush up along each other, all trying to find our way back “home,” but there is no touch. None at all. I’m not saying I want to chat about the weather with the person who sits next to me, I am simply pointing out that we are each blessed with a skill or dignity, but this enormous cloud of confinement lingers over us all.

As one of my professors stated the other day, “Yes you are unique. Just like eeeeeverybody else.”

It’s very sad. Makes one wonder what the meaning of it all is…

I watched my reflection in SkyTrain window the other day. Trees, buildings, cars, signs and roads whizzed by at alarming rates behind my face. What surprised me was upon seeing myself, was the look of fear and sadness I saw. My eyebrows slanted downwards, my lips curved and sunk with gravity. My eyes seemed hollow. My eyes. My eyes are never hollow. Yet there they were. Grey even.

Grey.

With all the comments that have been whirling around this past week regarding what people are thankful for (it is after all American Thanksgiving), I got to thinking, “What am I thankful for?”

Ultimately, life is yours to create. Your path is just that: yours. I firmly believe that the life you choose to have is entirely up to you, and is fully in your control… or do I? I know for certain, however, that by sifting through the crowd, there is someone, either singular or plural, there willing to stick with you and make everything just bearable. They make it fun, they make it worthwhile; they bring out the skills and dignity within you. Being loved truly is wonderful. I am thankful for this/these person/people. The ones that make my fridge of milk- and bread-less shelves okay, because I get to see them very soon.