“Everyone tries to make his life a work of art. We want love to last and we know that it does not” — Albert Camus, The Rebel
I want my life to be a work of art. I’m trying to make every day a good day because who knows how many I have left and I don’t want to end up lonely and dissatisfied just because I didn’t treasure the days of my youth as much as I should have.
I think that the greatest mistake a person can make is to have so much faith in the future that he forgets to make the most of the present. IB isn’t giving me a lot of time to reflect on life as I used to, but it does offer me the odd glimpse into the indomitable continuity of time, how it keeps going and how events keep fitting in as though in a never ending sort of jigsaw. I keep realising, over and over again how things just fall into place and how they always work out, despite the many many doubts that we might have. Everything this far in my life has worked out, and thinking of what used to bother me and keep me up and night brings a smile to my face as I remember them now, because it all seems so trivial and meaningless but seemed so pressing and important back then. I think what we all need is a little bit of perspective and longsightedness, because the little things like deadlines, assignments and work don’t really matter in the long run. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t put in our best into everything that we do, but it helps to remember that IB isn’t what life should be centred around, it’s just a part of what I’m supposed to be doing, not who I really am.
Love (amongst most other things) doesn’t last, but maybe it’s not supposed to. Maybe if we truly learnt to treasure the small moments we’d realise that love is short but that’s what makes it beautiful.