We didn’t have much growing up but it was okay because I didn’t know any better. We didn’t need a lot and got used to the way things were. I was happy and my Dad at least pretended he was for my sake. I have a deep appreciation for how I grew up because it instilled a sense of creativity. It taught me how to use what I had and make the best of it. I think we might have been basically poor there for awhile but I never knew it. Or maybe I knew it but was never bothered by it. Perhaps I knew it but just never felt it. We had plenty as far as I was concerned.
As I sit here in an a basically broken down apartment heated by old steel radiators, with terribly outdated windows that don’t quite shut right, during the first snowfall this winter, I’m completely content. It’s like I’m still that boy who didn’t know any better. I’ll always make do. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want better for myself, in fact it could be said it’s the reason I strive for more today.
I say I’m completely content, not knowing I’m even sure of what the term means. To me, all it means is to not be at war with yourself. To not long for things you don’t need and which wouldn’t be nearly as exhilarating as you thought they might be once you’ve acquired them. I’ve gotten very good at surviving off of the bare minimum, which I can appreciate but also fuels my desire to do and be better.
There is something to be said about being completely okay with the bare minimum while striving for so much more. I’m painfully okay with and happy being alone knowing that may change. I take advantage of it while I can though. I’m my favorite company sometimes and completely okay with it. I don’t need validation from others. Besides, I’ve always felt better off alone. I’m a bother to nobody and vice versa. I am my own best friend rather than my own worst enemy today.
The problem with the bare minimum is once you’ve tasted more and become aware of more, you tend to thirst for it. I’ve tasted so much more between now and then but I don’t know I thirst for it as much as I just want to prove to myself I knew I could get it. Sure, perhaps it’s ego at it’s finest. Maybe it’s the disease that can disguise itself as ambition, I don’t know.
All I know, is I can’t give my all to the people I know gave me theirs off of the bare minimum. I can’t make anybody’s life exponentially better off of the bare minimum. I cant change shit worth changing, so I’m very fucking far from content when you get right down to it. Content means you stop trying to do better. I don’t know anyone who’s truly content, nobody should be. When we stop trying to grow, we start dying. I’ll never stop trying to grow.