We’re all capable of everything. Despite this, we choose to place ourselves in limiting boxes because the truth is we don’t know what to do with infinity. It’s why death is so terrifying; it’s infinite. We’ll be dead for infinity and when it comes to the afterlife, or even lack thereof, there’s an infinite list of possibilities. If one person can do something, you can too. The question is will you?
This was the sort of lecture I’ve been giving myself all afternoon. I had to write an essay to apply for a trip, and it started out with me telling myself I can’t. Then I started telling myself that I could, and reminded myself of all my friends who had turned one in, and soon I had begun. Five hours later, the two page, double spaced essay was complete.
The first two paragraphs were probably the hardest. I was talking about one of my best memories, the first time I ever gave a speech in front of an audience when I was six years old, and it made me so happy I was crying. That club leader back then believed in me enough to let me speak on behalf of the whole club of kids who were years older than me, and that moment was the base that every good moment of my life needed to build off of. All because she knew I was capable and trusted me to reach far enough to succeed.
Thank you. Thank you for believing in me. You got me to this point. Anyone out there who had even a drop of faith in me. You’re why I’m here. This has been 24 hours of pure happiness and I just wanted to say thank you. It probably won’t last, but it’s here now, and that’s enough. My therapist told me that the first step to getting better is changing your thoughts and reminding yourself that you are capable, and it’s true. I can do this. The world is mostly mental, and now that that’s looking up, I can get through this.
This optimism feels strange coming from me, but I believe it. The more I type, the more I believe it. I can do this. I am doing it. I am living and it’s only getting better. It doesn’t have to get worse. Infinity exists. It could get better forever. A tiny voice is scratching at the door telling me to stop lying to myself, but that’s all it is right now. A voice behind a locked door. That door isn’t going to become unlocked anytime soon, because I make the decisions here now. Not a committee of past experiences all haunting me until I’m in a panic attack. They weren’t capable, so they’re gone. I’m living a life of no regrets and it’s going great. I’m capable of getting selected for the trip, now all that’s left is luck and prayer.