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The “what ifs” and the “perhaps’” from the crime scene

Posted on Sep 17, 2019 by in EN | 0 comments

what if2

Dramatic title, as usually, hope you didn’t expect anything else. It’s been a while. I wanted the next post to be about the travels from this summer. I’mma get back on that too, pinky promise. But life happened, as usually, so I decided to tackle a wee bit of a more personal aspect.

I dunno how you guys feel about making decisions but I totally suck at this aspect of existence. Regardless of the decision. Pizza or toast for dinner? Bus or tram? White or black shirt? And these are just the minor thingies. Imagine having to pick a place for a holiday. Imagine having to pick a job when you have two valid options. Imagine having to decide whether to let someone go or strive further. Yea. Headaches, anxiety and sleepless nights. The perfect combination leading to nothing good.

The road not taken

On the other hand, I finally finished reading The Subtle Art of not Giving a F*ck, started it about 2 years ago but who’s counting. Put things a bit in perspective. Perhaps we dramatize too much, perhaps the issues we face daily are not that unique, perhaps I am not the only one fucked in the head, you know what I mean? Obviously, I, like probably many of you guys, deal with things in a wrong way. With many things. Life-related things. It took me about 3 years after breaking up with a violent moron to realize that he was not that much of a prince in shiny armour. Took me a few years to see that perhaps staying in Finland would have been a better decision than returning home. Looking back from a very tangible present, the past appears in a far more objective light. But how can the present become objective, feelings, emotions and desires aside?

All these added up, you can understand why I’m not that big in making decisions. My past isn’t exactly a spectacular CV showing amazing decisions. Leaving the drama aside, I am aware that somehow we constantly face crossroads and we pick, more or less consciously one path or the other (which reminds me of a super cute poem I’m gonna let you with at the end of the article, a poem I taught to the high school students back in Finland). What I mean is that, say, I chose to learn Norwegian instead of Finnish – I wouldn’t have spent over a year and a half of my life in this amazing country. Say I chose to go to uni in Bucharest instead of Cluj, I chose one job instead of the other, one lover over the other and so on, I’d be a totally different person than the one I am today. No matter how much I would hate my past decisions, they made me the me I am today, and let’s admit it, it could be worse (the crowd applauses) or perhaps far better. Thing is, we’ll never know, will we?

Oh but darling what if…

Anyhow, the recent struggle that I noticed is that besides having difficulties picking one road over the other, one job over the other, the “should I stay or should I go” matter, was the matter of “what ifs”. Eventually, I can settle for a job, I can settle for not talking again to someone even if it breaks my heart, I can settle for losing a lifelong friend because we changed, I can settle for starting over somewhere new just because. But it’s the “what ifs” that won’t let me sleep at night. Normal people, I’m telling you, make a decision and never look back. Accept the consequences, never ponder again on the possibilities. But you, dear normal people, how can you sleep at night without wondering about the other possibilities you turned your back on?


The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

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