I was born with nothing, and I’m leaving with nothing

Life is a constant series of choices. We go through life thinking about what to eat, what to say, how to act, what to watch, and who to talk to. A long time ago, I decided that I would only do things that make me feel good—on my own time and with the people I love. Rather than making my life easier, this has made it more authentic and real.

Even if something brings me money or is a social norm I’m supposed to follow, I respond only to what makes me feel good. And when I talk about feeling good, it might bring me joy and satisfaction, but it might also just bring me peace—and that’s enough.

I no longer seek to please others, accumulate possessions, or cater to the interests of others, nor do I get caught up in pointless struggles: my life is mine, and I am the one who lives it. That is why I seek what is essential to me—what makes my heart sing and, at the end of the day, feels not like a burden but like an experience I am grateful for.

I remember that in the past I felt obligated to dress a certain way, to go out on weekends, to watch the latest TV show or movie, to socialize with others, to act in a way that would please the world. Now it’s not like that. I’ve had to learn that at the end of the day, when I go to sleep, it’s just me and my conscience, me with myself, me and me. Honestly, I don’t feel nostalgic for what I had or who I was; rather, I feel a great sense of relief.

At some point—I don’t know when, or maybe it happened gradually—I realized I didn’t want a schedule packed with events, exhausting meetings, and productive, profitable, intense, and epic activities. We grow up with the need to do and have many things, but this need can be a heavy burden. Or at least that’s how I see it: as a sentence or a burden. Many of those things we supposedly needed to have robbed us of peace, energy, and time, and looking back, we now see that they weren’t that important. All it takes is an extreme experience—like an illness, the death of someone, or grief—to make us realize that material things, for example, aren’t as important as we were led to believe.

Certainly, some revelations come to us too late, and that’s sad. That’s why, now that I can, I accept that I can’t be a tourist in my own life: I can’t just worry about looking good in the photo. Life messes up our hair, wrinkles us, makes us gain weight, teaches us. Life has to be easier, or at least we must try not to make it difficult. Live it so well that when death comes for us, we feel we did everything we wanted to do—whether much or little—and that there is nothing that makes us say: in the next life, I’ll do something else. This is life; make the most of it.

The main image was edited in Canva. All images are from my personal gallery, and the text was translated using Deepl.

Thank you for reading and for your comments. Until next time, friends