Life
If life is so short, why do we do so many things we don’t like and like so many things we don’t do? We wake up every day, dreading what’s going to happen. We deal with people we dislike and do things we don’t really want to do. And as we do them, we wish we were someplace else. Well, why not? Do we do things we don’t like because we know we have to, and don’t do things we want because we can’t? I know it’s a very long question, but I can’t help but long for the answer. We all know how short life is, then why don’t we live it to the fullest?
Who I Am
Why am I me? Whenever I'm in my living room watching t.v., I sometimes wonder,“Why couldn’t I be like Jennifer Lawrence?” Seriously, I’m not kidding. I will literally sit there and wonder why I am who I am. Why wasn’t I dog, or a bird, or even a seal? Not that I’m complaining, but what is my significance in this world? Why was it so important for me to be who I am and nobody else? This question daunts me all the time. Just thinking that I could’ve been a tree or something, but I turned out to be a human. Capable of endless possibilities.
Mistakes
If we learn from our mistakes, why are we always so afraid to make them? I recently took a math test and thought, “I failed this.” I was so sure I would ace it , but then didn’t know how to do anything. I was so upset I was about to cry. I went home and my mother told me that it was okay and that I would do better next time. But I didn’t want to hear "Next time", I wanted to come home and be proud of myself. I wanted to say that I’d done it perfectly. That I’d made no mistakes. That clearly didn’t happen, and I was very upset. Image Credit Here
What I’m trying to get to is that what my mother was implying wasn’t just that I would do better next time; but she was trying to tell me that the reason I would do better next time was because I would realize what I did wrong before. It was just that simple. But why didn’t I want to make a mistake. It wasn’t just to make others proud of me, not only had I felt like I let down myself, but everyone else as well. It was only a grade but it haunted me for that whole week.
That isn’t the only time it’s happened to me. My mother had once bought a cookbook that had an amazing recipe for chocolate chip cookies. I gathered all the ingredients and was ready to bake. After about two hours, the cookies were finished. I took a bite and spit it out immediately. It tasted bitter and inedible. Again, my mother told me I would do better next time. So if we’re always told that we can learn from our mistakes, then why do we still dread making them? If mistakes are what make us a better person, then why can’t we just accept the fact of making them?