Not all who wander are lost

I think it is impossible to describe some one in a few paragraphs. Volumes upon volumes may not be enough to take a glimpse into the unique enigma that each and everyone of us is, but here it goes.
I am an amalgam of paradoxes. I am happy and I am sad. I am motivated to grab life by it’s balls and be the king of the world and at the same time I am indifferent a to this absurd rat race. I love the little mundane things in life, sharing a meal with my family or a silent ride with my friends in a car but sometimes the even best in the world is not enough to put a smile on my face. Shallow people and their constant struggle to impress their percieved superiors and and to look down upon perceived inferiors annoys me. What is my place on this pale blue dot swimming in a sea of nothingness? What is the meaning of this crazy ride through this storm of cosmic wonder, we call life. These are the questions that sometimes keep me up at night.
What I think sets me apart is my attitude towards life. My definition of success is not being the best at what you do, or trying your best, or being satisfied and happy with what you have. For me if everything is going smooth and I achieve what I set out for than I probably set my standards too low. I like life to hit me in the face like a run away train. I want it to throw me down hard so that I may get up even stronger.
Believe me these aren’t the ramblings of a sheltered edgy tween. I have seen more than my fair share of adversity, pain, loss, despair, you name it. I even survived a life threatening illness. Standing at the brink you realize how insignificant, meaningless and fragile yet wonderful and mesmerizing this all is. What came as a fear for my life, instilled in me a resilient streak to never get back to my comfort zone. That’s where I have been since then, finishing what I start only to look for something exponentially gruelling to occupy my self with.
This my readers, in a nutshell, is Billawal Nawaz, BBA, Marketing majors and Media minor, from LSE. I leave you with these stanzas from Tolkein’s poem, one of whose lines started this piece.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be the blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

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