[insert title here because i couldn’t think of any fuck this shit]

I remember a book I read a long, long time ago. Back in college, I think. I haven’t picked up Looking for Alaska in a long time. I haven’t picked up a book in a long time, period. I should do something about that I guess.

But yeah. Like John Green said in that book, life is a labyrinth. Or is it suffering that’s the labyrinth? Or is life that’s a labyrinth of suffering? Or is that what Gabriel Garcia Marquez said? My memory fails me sometimes, really.

Well (why does this word sound so condescending sometimes?), the way I see it, life is a maze. A maze that has different sizes and levels of difficulties, of course.

Life itself, however, is the Grand Maze. Well, because it’s the Grand Suffering. It deserves the capitalization, the little shit.

And this is the only way I can rationalize this thing we call human existence, I guess.

The small mazes, there’s always a way out. In, around, under, through. There’s always a way out.
The Grand Maze, however, is a different ballgame.
Because the Grand Maze, you can say, is the big boss you always have a hard time defeating in video games. It’s a lot more difficult to get out of. And it’s different.

In the Grand Maze, you can go out with a bang, a whimper, a small wave, or with nothing at all.

You can always get out any time you want, really. The catch is: you can’t go back.

Find a way out. That’s all I want to do, to be frank.

Before, the method really isn’t important. What’s important is I get the fuck out of the maze.

But sometimes I don’t distinguish the difference between the small mazes and the Grand Maze.

This happened so many times. So many fucking times.

Thought about it…thinking that maybe, it’s for the best. That maybe I’m not cut out for the Grand Maze in the long run.

It’s just really fortunate that I’m fucking terrified of oblivion.

It made me think. How can one decide that it’s the best for them to exit the Grand Maze entirely? That getting out of different mazes every single day is just…not okay anymore?
That getting out entirely is the best–the only choice? Choice has always been important in these kinds of things. And the sad thing is, I guess we’ll never know.

Sometimes, I wonder which is worse. Staying or going. Finding a way out of the smaller mazes, or going out of the Grand Maze ultimately.

Fuck if I know. But yeah, I guess it’s not time for me to find out.

I guess it’s just making the choice of defeating the monsters and riddles on every maze and get out. By hook or by crook.

Doesn’t matter if I crawl out, dig myself, swim, or run screaming and crying. What’s important is, I get out. And get out ready for the next fucking maze.

That I choose to get ready for the next maze, and all the mazes I could face in the time I exist.

I just hope I make good choices every day.

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