Life. (don't be concerned)
Life for me has always been suffering interlaced with temporary moments of happiness. If I think back to all the mental states I know, much more of them have been spent in lack. In waiting. Waiting for life to happen to me. A nagging sensation that this is not what my life is supposed to be like. And that possibly, somewhere out there, there is a version of me who is living the best life I could be living. His life is not mine though, yet I constantly use him as an excuse, to devalue my own experience. My friendships are empty, my relationships are empty. Every thought is plagued by the promise of a 'what if(?)' or an 'if only' There have been certain moments that surpass the dissatisfaction inherent in every waking experience. I have felt in those moments that I am underneath the flow of life as it passes over me and refreshes me. I have experienced it in badminton; The absolute, unwavering concentration that carries within it the plethora of expressions and emotions ...