All my life, I strive to be the two words above: boring and pacifist.
I hardly indulge on exciting worldly satisfaction, despite the temptation often comes with profession.
I try my hardest to oppose what I feel as unnecessary acts violence, or even hardship put unto others.
Alright, I even force myself to be neutral all the time, not siding to any definite position in any situation.
Whenever possible, however much I can, whatever circumstances.
The cost of doing so?
You are robbed the joy of life.
Because to be boring and pacifist at the same time require tremendous perfection that not only tiptoeing making mistakes, but not making mistakes at all.
In the famous words of 1960s crime caper TV series: Mission Impossible.
But I make mistakes all the time.
I make mistakes without knowing I make one all the time.
I make people hurt from the mistakes, that hurt me in return.
I often disagree with other people in many circumstances.
I have to come with unpopular decision in numerous occasions, just to get things going.
In short, you cannot be boring pacifist.
You can only be yourself, because in the end, you are the one who is only able to save yourself.
I’ve lost people in great emotional distance in the past year. I’ve discovered unpleasant sides that have been covered and clouded over years.
But in return, I find myself again.
That it’s okay to lose a few, because you will gain many.
That it’s okay to be hurt, because over time you will be strong.
That it’s okay to not have, because you actually already have.
That it’s okay to live, because that’s the one thing that matters.
I love boring things, that’s what Andy Warhol said once. I agree.
I just don’t have to be one.
Because we are never one.
This is my birthday note this year.