Awhile back I got kind of sad if someone
said ‘I used to read a lot’ or ‘I stopped writing’ because I kept feeling like
they were missing out on something. I enjoy both of those things. I have been
writing from time to time since, what? 2013? And for the past few years my love
for reading had kind of been reborn.
Writing helps me a lot in sorting out my
thoughts and it keeps me creative. I often use it to express my feelings that I
otherwise won’t say at all. The fact that I can hide something that may be personal
in plain sight quickly became an appeal to younger me who couldn’t figure out
how else to do it. Even now I sometimes use it for that purpose, but mostly I
enjoy playing with words. And I love reading not just as an escape but because
of the stories that I get to tell to other people. We used to that a lot when
we got bored in our dorm; one person would tell a story and a small group of
people would listen. We kept updates on the stories too (cause they were usually
fanfic/teenfic from Wattpad). I kind of miss that.
I’ve digressed.
The reason why it low-key bothered me if
someone has stopped reading or writing and they don’t find joy in it anymore is
because I want everyone to enjoy it the same way I do, or more. I wanted more
people to find the satisfaction of finishing a good book or the relief of
writing their deepest darkest secrets between the lines of a poem. For some
reason, I got upset if the things that they used to find so much joy stopped
giving them that same happiness. I would wonder what went wrong, how did things
that still bring me so much excitement disappoint others?
Took me awhile to figure out that it’s
unfair and selfish to think that way.
People find happiness in different things,
and sometimes the sources change or something ruin it for them so they find it
somewhere else. My Little Things are not necessarily someone else’s. One thing
that I learn is that people value things differently, the same way people have
different taste in things. I still enjoy reading and writing because of what
they mean to me and I hope everyone else has their own thing that means a lot
to them.
I believe that the purest joy can be found
in the little things and moments, as long as we put our own meanings to them. Like
listening to a new song and feeling a smile slowly forming on your face. Or the
way the lights from buildings blur out when you’re in the car while it rains.
Or floating in the water while looking up at the blue sky and your ears are
submerged so it’s soothingly silent. Or the smell of freshly cut grass. Or
laughing out loud with your friends (or since it’s quarantine time, getting a
text from them updating you on their lives). Or finding a funny meme, or a cute
animal, or a new show on Netflix you can binge. The taste of good coffee or nailing
a recipe in the first try. Whatever it is, as long as it brings you joy even in
the smallest degree, it deserves to be cherished.
It was wrong of me to expect something to
have the same meaning to others as it does to me. Everyone is unique and that’s
exactly what makes the world even more beautiful. We find happiness in different
corners of this vast world and take what we’ve given each other and give them
new meanings that are valuable to us. From a collective source, we manage to
take the same things but then make them personal to us.
I know now can be a rough time for certain
people. Obviously, I don’t know how everyone is doing but I hope that you still
find joy in the things that you love. And if you don’t, I hope you find
yourself a good substitute. It’s okay if your source of joy changes, but don’t
stop looking for them. Those little things count if they sum up to a smile on
your face or are something to look forward to when you’re having a bad day. Life is made up of moments and it is up to us
to make them meaningful.
-Nik.