Ever since I immigrated to the United States, I have always dream of what I want to do with my life and what I can do now for that purpose. Questions only breed more questions. And oftentimes I find my mind wandering in an imaginary world as I sit in a classroom or on my bed, absorb in melancholic thoughts of why I exist, what I can make of my future, of myself, where I belong, and where I want to belong. I have ceaselessly pondered these questions and could only arrive at lamentable answers. Yet I believe, somewhere in my heart, that if I can decipher some meaning to those questions, I can understand myself better.
Even though I may look focus, my mind and eyes are elsewhere, in a distant land searching for answers. I have always thought and even dreamt of a certain place that I to see and feel, knowing fully that the chances of its existence is close to none. After all, it’s all in my silly imagination. That certain place, I want to believe, is somewhere on this blue planet. I envision that it would most likely be in Europe. On top of a mighty hill, a colossal tree sits silently as a serene zephyr blows. The sun shines evermore brilliantly. And beneath the lazy clouds, a sea of green can be seen across the fields. Here I lay, back against the tree trunk and shadow by the benevolent leaves. I can feel the gentle heat brushing against my body, but is quickly relief by a sweet kiss of zephyr. Here, with such serenity, is the place I seek: a place without worries, without conflicts and without a soul.
This makes me sound like a recluse; admittedly, I may well be one. I’m not a person with many friends nor do I seek many friends. As a person who always dreams to spend his time beneath a large tree amidst a sea of green, the place in which I am most at ease is when I am alone. I realize that. But because I feel this way, it makes it even harder for me to embrace a stranger, such as a classmate, in this city. I don’t belong. It takes all my courage just to say hi to someone I’ve never met before. I am a dreamer and a coward.
However, because I can dream, I want to see the end of my dream. And I have acted solely for the sake of that reason. If not, what else can I look forward to? What else can I hold on to? I have the slightest clue on why I even exist or the meaning of my existence when I know that one day, I will surely die. This fragile and fleeting life of mine is nothing more but a dot on a map, and less than a billionth percent of the world’s human population. Even if my childish dream has almost no chance of existing, I want to grab onto that thin rope of hope. Hanging in the abyss of thoughts, I can either let go and fall into despair or grab tight and climb. I choose to climb.
For such a surreal, unrealistic, and perhaps idiotic future that resides in my heart, I muster my courage and continue to climb alongside my fear and hope, constantly battling with reality and my dream. After all, to climb means to seek my dream and to do so, I must travel. For that reason, I need a source of money in which I can only attain through a proper education and occupation.
And so I am here weaving myself in preparation for the future, to find an imaginary place suitable for a foolish dreamer and coward like me.
An attempt to draw what I had envisioned, but did not turn out great. Drawn and painted on May 3rd, 2010.
