Roller Coasters VS. Ferris Wheels

My Symphony: Cartwheels / The Reindeer Section

I always preferred roller coasters to Ferris wheels.

I always thought it was better to go spiraling up and down at an irrational speed than to repetitively go around on a stabilized circular motion at an intermittent pace.

I always looked to roller coasters whenever I felt like life was boring me, or whenever I felt like people were boring me. I loved the feeling of an exciting danger and hated the idea of a stagnant safety.

I remember being in Enchanted Kingdom with my brothers and my cousins back in 2011. We went on the Ferris wheel, and there was a moment where we were stranded for about nine minutes at the top. It was hell for me. I felt so nauseous, and all I really wanted to do was get off. In fact, I was so nauseous that I almost vomited. But I was stronger than that, I thought, so I just closed my eyes, took a deep breath, swallowed my puke (yep), and promised myself never to go on the Ferris wheel ever again.

A huge part of my life had been spent obsessing over living on the edge at all times. Everyone who knows me can attest to this. I was not always this “chill”. In fact, I was the exact opposite of chill and everything else that “chill” entails. I was a daredevil, a relentless adrenaline junkie who couldn’t stop craving for adventure, even when it meant I had to look for it in all the wrong places.

And so I went on the roller coasters of life. I was way up, and then I was way down, all in a literal blink of an eye. I was screaming, and I was laughing, and I was cursing so loudly. And then in like five seconds, I was back to reality. I went from being on cloud nine to robotically forcing a can of Mountain Dew and a handful of cotton candy down my throat.

It was all amazing. It was all really, really exciting. I felt so daring, and so alive, and so invincible during all those years of my life – those roller coaster years. But it all changed. Not quickly. Not at all. It was such a gradual change of heart, that made me miss that Ferris wheel. I started to miss that feeling of starting and stopping, and then starting again, very slowly. And I started to miss being at the top for a moment, from where I could see all the lights before me, and from where I could hear the faint sound of the world around me. I missed how the Ferris wheel felt more like real life. I missed how it was slow and steady, but peaceful and romantic at the same time. It was like I just slowly stopped craving for danger and one morning I just woke up and I was okay with being still.

The meaningless acquaintances and the short-lived pleasures just didn’t satisfy me anymore. My skin somehow became numb and my soul started to take over. It wanted to be the one to feel this time. It wanted what I wasn’t giving it. It wanted authenticity, and calm, and a gentle yet powerful love. And then it hit me: the pain that comes with dangerous adventures just wasn’t worth it anymore. It hit me that excitement doesn’t have to be risky, and that stability doesn’t have to mean boredom.

I look at all the relationships I’ve had in my life – those that survived and those that didn’t – and I see a great connection to my musings; I see that in this life, you have to be able to have fun with the people you surround yourself with even in the absence of a daring adventure. Because adventure is easy. This is what I’ve come to realize. It’s super easy! All the resorts, and clubs, and destinations, and music festivals, and trains, and buses, and yachts, and everything else that involves noise, and music, and booze and fun… It’s all easy. And it’s all good. It’s all great, peachy stuff that give color to life.

But age is a very linear journey, and none of us is getting any younger. So eventually, the question shifts from “What gives life color?” to “What gives life substance?”. You eventually begin to assess your life and who’s all in it, and see who can stand you when you’re hungry and sleep-deprived. You eventually take a pause and see who makes you feel like you’re on cloud nine without even leaving your house, or your room. You begin to realize who’s there just for the party, and who’s there to stay until the morning after to help you clean up the mess. And you will finally understand, that the high you get from going on roller coaster rides is absolutely nothing compared to the high you get when you simply look into someone’s eyes and feel like you could get lost in them.

XOXO,
KENN

P.S. I’m definitely gonna re-read this write-up when I’m 55 and probably laugh at how serious I was. But it will be all good. 

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I am Not a Flawless Person

I am not a flawless person. Of this, I am sure.

I am not a flawless person, and my mind is a dark place with fire, devils and holes. I am not a part of any charity events because I am often too busy mixing lava with cotton candy in my hell.

I am not a flawless person. I do not have the perfect job, the perfect family, the perfect car and the perfect friends. My job is non-existent, my family is a whirlpool of erratic characters, my car is also non-existent, and my friends are sometimes just as lost as I am.

I am not a flawless person. I have a couple of scars on my body, and I sometimes fall asleep with an ache in my heart. I have issues, I have problems, I have a sickness beyond repair.

I am not a flawless person. Sometimes you will find me cris-crossing on the streets, falling off, tripping over, vomiting. I smoke, I drink, and I drink some more. I listen to Eminem, Kendrick Lamar, Childish Gambino and Nirvana. There are times when I hate everyone and everything because I feel like they’re so different, so sure about everything.

I am not a flawless person. I have commitment issues, because I am scared of a lot of things. I do not have a pleasing past. In fact, I have a dark past. And people do not like me for that. I often doubt if people could actually afford to let me in their doors and not lock me out forever after a while.

I am not a flawless person. I’m not dainty, intelligent or appropriate. I may appear like I am sometimes, but that’s called acting. Because really, nobody wants to deal with sad and angry people, now does he?

I am not a flawless person. I’m not really cool, rich and popular. I do not own properties and I do not have the perfect face and body. Now what’s flawed about that? It’s the fact that I take pride in being inside my own skin. I like being who I am and what I am because this way, I get to be extreme without being pretentious. And that’s what drives people nuts, isn’t it? Authenticity. It’s a rare skill nowadays.

I am not a flawless person. I am vindictive, rebellious, ruthlessly expressive and sometimes brutally nonchalant and oblivious.

I am not a flawless person, because I’ve grown up being used to mistakes and failures. I’ve never been a perfectionist, and I’ve never really felt the need to please other people. So you may say I am flawed, simply because I do not give a flying fuck about how I look under the public eye. You may say I am flawed because I’ve hurt people, and it’s bizarre that I sometimes do not feel sorry for them.

I am not a flawless person. I won’t be anyone’s prince charming or knight in shining armor because that’s just not who I am. I am not a warrior, a cop or a lawyer. I am not a doctor or a shrink. I am me, and a million other things come with that, just like a million other things come with being anyone that you truly are in this world.

I am not a flawless person, and I have disappointed a lot of people.

I am not a flawless person.

I’m just not.

But I am glad I’m not.

Being flawed is how I’ve kept myself alive all these years. But you know what the best thing about being flawed is?

You get to live, not just exist.