Past 9 p.m. My pizza delivery is here. I pay the guy, smile, and get back inside because let’s face it; why wouldn’t you smile at someone who brings you pizza?
As the sound of the engine is getting muffled by distance, I sit on my bed and try to write. Anything could do the thing, but I can’t. I’m probably out of inspiration or perhaps experience. I have lots of things in mind but I’ve made up with myself and forgave everything and everyone, and that’s why I can’t write; there’s no rage anymore, no cause I would defend, no emotion I would expatriate in words. As a river, I’m still. Or as a warrior that came back home, I know where I’m putting my feet.
Is this what they call being mature? When I was 16, I have been avoiding using that word and having arguments every time some “adult” would define it. “You’re not mature yet” or “that’s something you will understand when you’ll be mature”, what does that even mean?
I do realize that some people would just hide that empty chaos we bury inside of ourselves behind a word or two, mostly “maturity” and “adulthood”. Does it mean talking/not talking too much? Being good at small talk? Chatting about the weather and how much ONCF is giving a hard time for people who commute? Having a stable job? Accepting failure and living in that historical rhythm of being which is closer to the non-existence?
I don’t know.
Some people are just not ambitious, somewhat not excited about life. They could’ve had that fire but lost it at some point all along the way. They’re not curious anymore and mostly pretend to know it all; a typical image of an “adult” that has forsaken the “unanswered questions” path for a “stability” path. Would you blame him, because you “think” people have a choice in the life they’re living? Was it even his fault?…
You see, there are lots of destinies that remain unexplained; those Jewish families who got burned to death in Hitler’s Holocaust only because they lived between 1941/1945 as Jews, that kid with an extra chromosome or a congenital disorder, that aborted fetus, that guy who got fired from his job because a machine has taken his place, or even those jobless scholars who surrendered for being low paid employees in order to survive.
You see, the thing is, a pawn doesn’t choose to be in the front row ina chess game, he doesn’t choose not to go back nor the fact that he will be replaced the moment he’s advanced to the eight rank. Those are the rules. Analogically, there’s no use in judging someone who only talks about superficial subjects; there are lots of things that remain unexplained, even to those people themselves. Perhaps you’ve been privileged to spend hours in the library learning about quantum mechanics/ number theory/ history and all of that, while your parents are having a hard time making a living so that you can go to that library.
Perhaps, maturity is when you choose to accept and dive into your faith, other than hesitating on whether it’s ambitious or not and stay undecided for the rest of your life, with the “what if” questions. At least give it a shot, whatever it is. Though the “what is” is something you wouldn’t stop yourself from; somewhat a human nature as Robert Frost has beautifully written in his poem “The Road Not Taken”.
At last, none of this matters, really, checkmate is a checkmate, whether it’s done by a queen or a pawn. Either you’re mature or not, it will end someday.
My pizza is getting colder, it wouldn’t be mature to eat a cold pizza, now would it?
🧠 Opinions : Les points de vue exprimés dans cet article sont strictement ceux de l'auteur et ils ne reflètent pas forcément ceux de Pokemag