Being young means that opportunities become endless. Not in a sense that we are given an immense amount of opportunity but that we have options. And of course, time. Our digit age has left us with more ways to communicate, and most importantly more ways to see things we never saw before.
I am young. Have I seen the world? No but I have seen enough to know that being young means fighting. Fighting with family, fighting with friends, fighting with lovers, fighting for a career but most importantly fighting for our own life. Fighting to be who we are and knowing where we belong, while we remain in this high-speed world.
So we are young, and we have all these opportunities because of globalization, however, we are still fighting to find our home, to learn about ourselves, all while we are trapped by this ever-changing world of ours.
I love going to airports, all the people going and moving about their day. Families arguing over who is sitting where on the plane; people frantic over giving up valuables packed in over price suitcases to the women or men at the counters; the nerves of everyone waiting in the security line; the man running to his flight as his name is called over the intercom. All the interactions: Hugs, Kisses, Hellos. See you later. Have a safe flight. Call me when you land? How was the flight? I love you. And most importantly, goodbye.
It's such a sad word: Goodbye. Nothing about saying goodbye is good. But as I have learned it is not a sad word or a ‘good’ word. It’s troubling. The good pertains to good as in good to go. It’s indefinite. Afterwards, we may say no other words to each other again.
We are young we are able to access more of the world than we have ever been able too. We can hop on a plane, start a new career, live in a new house and essentially start over. But if we are searching for ourselves, doesn’t this sound like we are running. Running away rather than embracing life. Don’t we all want to come home? Have a place to call home, to be able to hear the words: how was your flight? I love you. So glad you’re home. Don’t we all want to put an end to that indefinite good in goodbye? Because as we know, there is nothing good to a goodbye and being able to go home again is a marvelous feeling.
But how in our ever changing, ever moving, ever interacting world, how do we know where home really is anymore? And are we able to truly find ourselves at home or do we need to take part in the endless possibilities this world is able to provide in order to fight for who are? Or become who are meant to be?
I am young. Have I seen the world? No but I have seen enough to know that being young means fighting. Fighting with family, fighting with friends, fighting with lovers, fighting for a career but most importantly fighting for our own life. Fighting to be who we are and knowing where we belong, while we remain in this high-speed world.
So we are young, and we have all these opportunities because of globalization, however, we are still fighting to find our home, to learn about ourselves, all while we are trapped by this ever-changing world of ours.
I love going to airports, all the people going and moving about their day. Families arguing over who is sitting where on the plane; people frantic over giving up valuables packed in over price suitcases to the women or men at the counters; the nerves of everyone waiting in the security line; the man running to his flight as his name is called over the intercom. All the interactions: Hugs, Kisses, Hellos. See you later. Have a safe flight. Call me when you land? How was the flight? I love you. And most importantly, goodbye.
It's such a sad word: Goodbye. Nothing about saying goodbye is good. But as I have learned it is not a sad word or a ‘good’ word. It’s troubling. The good pertains to good as in good to go. It’s indefinite. Afterwards, we may say no other words to each other again.
We are young we are able to access more of the world than we have ever been able too. We can hop on a plane, start a new career, live in a new house and essentially start over. But if we are searching for ourselves, doesn’t this sound like we are running. Running away rather than embracing life. Don’t we all want to come home? Have a place to call home, to be able to hear the words: how was your flight? I love you. So glad you’re home. Don’t we all want to put an end to that indefinite good in goodbye? Because as we know, there is nothing good to a goodbye and being able to go home again is a marvelous feeling.
But how in our ever changing, ever moving, ever interacting world, how do we know where home really is anymore? And are we able to truly find ourselves at home or do we need to take part in the endless possibilities this world is able to provide in order to fight for who are? Or become who are meant to be?
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