waiting for comets and building time machines/the one where I turn 21
Dear Adventurer,
On 1st February, 2023, I left the comfort of my room to go see a rare green comet outside. I still remember the excitement that coursed through my veins like it was yesterday.
I'd seen the news of the comet days ago and had been excited to exhaustion. The kind of excitement that renders you incapable of doing anything else. Posted about it on my status, told my friends, got them excited.
And I was outside that night at 11pm. Cold and sitting on my dad's car, staring at the night sky, waiting for the green comet to show. I remember my Aquanaut telling me it would most likely not show up. That damned pessimist. And I told him, "It has to." It had to. I don't know why but I could feel it. The comet was going to show up for me. All my life and all my living had led up to that moment.
Except the comet didn't show up.
I saw so many pictures on Twitter from people all over the world, sharing their experience and their views of the green comet. Oh, what it must feel like to be God's favourite.
I didn't see the comet. Didn't matter how long I stayed outside. Or the number of nights I returned, staring at the constellation this comet was supposed to be located. And each time, my excitement and hope dwindled like a petal of The Beast's rose falling off.
But I’m 21 today so I have to evaluate all my 20-year-old experiences and draw life lessons from them. And you, adventurers, have to endure the melodrama and sentiment of it all. And to do that, we have to go back in time. Yes, a time travel!
So, I have gathered all the parts necessary to build a time machine; the haunting ghosts of dead dreams, the strange melancholia that comes with birthdays and, of course, a gallon of regret to fuel our machine. Now, we're back to this day a year ago. I'm hesitating in front of my door, wondering, "What so I say to my 20-year-old self?"
Firstly, if you haven't figured yet, stop waiting for comets. All our life, we've always waited for the right time to do things. Or for the right push. Something, someone that hits us with a blast of serotonin and just pushes us to successfully achieving our goals. We've been waiting for comets, and they mostly never come. So, you gotta stop. There's never gonna be a right time to chase your dreams.
Next, this one's a sad one... On the 25th of April, 2023, your friend will text you the words "Hey. Are you okay? It's been a minute," because you've isolated yourself and ghosted everyone like you use to. And you will take two weeks before you reply. But it'll be too late by then, because he'll be dead.
And the pain will wreck you in ways you didn't think possible. You will cry and fall into a dark pit. And months after that, you'll find yourself thinking about him and shedding more tears. Because he's gone. He's really gone. The words will haunt you.
So you should reply him the moment he texts you, and you should tell him how much you love him. Because you really do. And listen to him rant about his life, and read his books when he asks you to because he wants feedback from you, and treasure his voice notes. You'll need them. You'll wear your ears out listening to them over and over again. You'll make sure you're there every step of the way until he's gone.
Because he will be gone in less than two weeks.
What do I say to my 20-year-old self?
Goddamnit, you will face so many pain. The kind that makes you wish your heart would stop beating just so you wouldn't feel again. And you will survive them all. You have to.
You will stumble across an abandoned group your ex-girlfriend created, and you will impulsively add five people to that group. And those five wankers will stand by you through everything, forming a friendship you didn't anticipate.
You will fall in love on a cold night while watching stars. It will rip your heart apart. But a deep friendship will blossom in its stead.
You will send out like a dozen shirt stories to a dozen magazines. And you will receive the same number of rejections. You'll wants to give up. Maybe you do at one point. But we can never stay away from our keyboard, can we?
And you will sit out waiting for comets as life passes you by. And will regret doing that. And we will be fine.
I know all of this because I am you, one year older, one year wiser, one year closer to death.
But since our time machine is simply fictitious and we can't change things in the past, not really, we reset the date on the machine and aim for the future. We will charge into that future yelling, "Ad astra per aspera," at the top of our lungs. Every moment of the next year, every minute of being our 21-year-old self, we will live and we will dream and we will feel every damned emotion... And we will have stories to tell our 22-year-old self.
Take me, gravity!!!
Yours melodramatically,
Oṣumare the Astronaut.
