Decisions and stuff

The thing about decisions is… it sucks.

Sucks to a point where even in the littlest things we have to make them. Why can't just things happen? Why can't we just go with the flow and not give a care in the world, so that later on we won't have to wonder about why things are like this or like that? They get to you, you know.

We can't simply because we can't. Period.

I hate that I'm powerless against my brain, that I can't shut off the part of it which forces me to think of life's whys and ifs. I mean, come on, do I really have to torture myself with thoughts I don’t want to have? Can I just please jump to that part where everything is okay and perfect right now? If only I could, I would.

But maybe, just maybe, life would be less meaningful and livable if I skipped this part. Maybe I'd be less of a person without it. Not maybe. Exactly.

Though I know this, nothing has changed. I’m still disgusted by the idea of making decisions because I always end up making the wrong call.

I’m not writing this so I can justify the mistakes that I have made. Not even to put the blame on anyone or myself. What good would that do? Some may think this is a cry for help. No. This is me acknowledging what’s wrong. I’m doing this to let go of long-kept emotions and clear my head, because finally the weight of my decisions has dawned on me. I see everything now, and what I see is an ugly sight.

Missed chances.

Awful consequences.

Sugarcoated blame.

And random self-loathing. Ugh.

We are sometimes afraid of decisions because we know they define who we are; more so, where we are and what we do right now may be rooted from the choices we made in the past. Some of our decisions from before will try to catch up with our present, even with our future. We’re scared because we have to take responsibility for them after some time, if not now. Maybe it’s just me. Or is it?

I think good decision-making, just like wisdom, comes with age. And from that point of view, I’m still that infantile three-year old late bloomer who has yet to learn how to walk without wobbling and talk without stuttering. Even worse, I think I’ll stay this way for a while.

I failed. I thought discussing (rambling about) it here would make things better. It didn’t.

Or maybe it did. I don’t know.

That being said, I don’t want to pretend I’m feeling better because I’m not. I’m not yet done with my rants. But I’ve already said too much here, so I’ll just continue where I left off inside my head.

And as much as I want to give this a somewhat hopeful end, I can’t for two reasons. One, because I still can’t accept the fact that I’ve let my judgment be clouded by doubt; two, because this isn’t the end yet. In fact, this is just the beginning.

Someday soon, when this is all over, I’ll stop questioning life.