As Julio Cortazar once wrote: “My diagnosis is simple, I am a lost cause”.
You are probably a lost cause too, because you feel very deeply and sometimes you cry without knowing why. Perhaps we are both fascinated by people who spread their emotions through their energy. You probably also like people who vibrate and it is likely that you like to work, to make your reality even better than your dreams.
We are lost business because sometimes we get angry for no reason and the whole world comes crashing down when things don’t go the way we would like. There is no hope for us because we are unable to count to ten before exploding, as experts advise.
I’m a lost cause (and so are you) because I can’t seem to eat five meals a day, sleep eight hours a night, or take care of myself before I count on others. I’m constantly waiting for ‘that person’ to spend time with me.
I’m a lost cause (and you probably are too) because I’m not always able to let go and say goodbye to the things that hurt me. It’s not that I like to cling to things or that I’m not able to. I just keep hoping that miracles aren’t over yet. I can not help it. That’s how irrational I am, though I try my best not to be (you’ve probably been through the same thing).
I am a lost cause because I am fully convinced that the things that require the most effort are the most valuable and I know that I must muster the courage to keep moving forward.
I like to put on a smile every morning, but I understand that this is not always necessary, that sadness is sometimes good for me and that sometimes I have to cut myself off from the rest for a while when my body feels the need to cry .
I don’t like it when others tell me what to do, how I should be, when I should or shouldn’t be sad or how I should feel.
I’m hopeless because I like to listen to other people’s little fights, because I like to judge and belittle their facial expressions. I’m a lost cause because I can’t stand being lied to, but I understand that sometimes people just do this.
I’m a lost cause because I don’t like white or black! Because I like gray, pink, blue and yellow more. I don’t have a favorite color, because every color radiates something that turns me on.
Also, I’m a lost cause because I know I can get totally upset just thinking about my first love. And I’m sure this won’t stop me from being able to insanely love the person who’s in my life right now.
I am a lost cause because in my life I have PEOPLE and people. In capital and small letters. Because I think that in love there is a certain hierarchy or that there is at least a certain kind of love for every person on earth.
I am a lost cause because sometimes I criticize and I am incoherent. I’m hopeless because I think love is worth living in this rushed world, because I know there are cardinal markers and I can lose sight of my north about every silly thing.
Nor am I afraid to admit that I am terrified of a broken heart. That I sometimes fear loneliness and that I shed a tear at the thought that one day I might lose someone.
We are authentic in our diversity
I am hopeless when my idiosyncrasies say everything about me, when I fall in love with the sincere, the childish and the unexpected. They say I shouldn’t be doing this, that I’m ‘too old to…’. To which I respond that I am not too old for anything, that I have simply collected my youth and that I will live my life how I want, until one day it comes to an end.
Because I know that old age is a kind of ‘spirit’, not a phase of life. Aging is inevitable, but I’ve decided that I’m hopeless and that I’ll be a beacon for as long as I can.
Although I know it’s not easy being a lost cause, especially since preserving memories can sometimes be painful. It’s hard to justify doing the same thing every day for months on end and experiencing similar things. Watching the clock on my cell phone keep moving forward, setting twenty alarms, sending the same messages and making the same promises to myself that will never be fulfilled…
Then I tell myself I’ll be ready to turn things around next week. But when I really think about it, I realize that those twenty alarm clocks and those same messages don’t define me as a person or write the story of my life at all.
I write my own story, with my own periods, commas, exclamation and question marks, my own capital letters. Therefore, I have no choice but to just be MYSELF, again with capital letters and determination.
Like you probably, I’m hopeless for a whole handful of other reasons. Because we all have thousands of stories and hundreds of cars. That’s what makes us authentic and special, that we’re secretly a lost cause and at the same time be ourselves when we have so much and so little in common with each other.