LIFE OUTSIDE THE CRYSTAL BALL

When I was a child, I admired crystal balls. As an eight - year - old, my eyes twinkled to the little bits of sparkles and snow. My heart seemed to waltz to the rhythm of the falling snowflakes. "Magnificent." - I told myself. 

My mom bought me a sweet little crystal ball that would easily fit into my palms. Inside, there was a young couple on the park bench grinning at me. They looked as if they were having the best days in their idle life. But, to be honest, I couldn't care less about the immobile couple. My eyes were fixed on the wonders that were sparkles and snowflakes. "If I could live in a crystal ball" - I thought - "I would live in a small house on a hill made of candy and cotton - balls. The snow could hit me sometimes, but I'd be warm and cozy."

LIFE INSIDE A CRYSTAL BALL

My childhood was spent living in a figurative crystal ball. Showered with my parents' love and affections, there was not a single hint of despair coming to shook me up. The constant warmth that I received felt like that small cozy house I imagined for myself. As a "little miss sunshine", I fit in well everywhere with a contagious smile on my face. Primary school was a playground to me. I brought my custom - made paper dolls to school almost every day and shared them with my best friend. We painted them odd colors turning them into monstrous divas while laughing at our own creations. These paper dolls that I made bore a huge resemblance to the couple in the crystal ball in that they always had a big smile on their faces. But they looked so stiff. I tried to make them walk as humanly as possible but never succeeded. 

When my goal of making human-like paper dolls hit a dead - end, I got a $50 Barbie from my aunt. I hated it. Nothing about it cheered me up. I tried to play with the costly doll multiple times, but was always irked out by the plastic motionless face. In the end, I gave it to my cousins who appreciated it much better. 

I stopped playing with dolls at the age of 10. I didn't want to be comforted by plastic figurines. My curious mind went on to discover the real world once I reached my teenage years. The more exposed I was to the world, the less I wanted to live in my figurative crystal ball. At the age of 15, I wanted the world to be my playground. I wanted to roam free like the forest spirits in the world of Miyazaki. Just then, the glass ceiling of my crystal ball finally cracked.

THE EMBRACE OF THE COLOR WHEEL

Like a newborn first welcomed to the world, I stretched my working arms and tireless foot. My first job was an intern English teacher at a local center. The first workday was awesome. The kids loved me when I brought them candies. On the second day, they ran excitedly to me at the sight of a candy bag. Thinking that I was finally accepted as a fun teacher, I did not bring a single piece with me on the third day. The kids weren't fawning on me anymore, instead, they lazed around and made googly eyes at the clock. "How naive of me." - I thought. 

The rest of the month was filled with hardships and challenges. Without the candies to lure the students, I struggled to commit to the workflow. It was then that I realized being a teacher was everything but an ease. My voice cracked after one month. During my short leave, I paid lots of visits to the bookstores with the hope to not only better the lessons but also bring my old self back. "Will I be fine once I get back to work?" - I wondered. 

And I was fine getting back to work. After days of research and killing myself over irrational reasons of why I should quit, I dared myself to step back into the classroom once more. This time, I somehow pulled it off. After 2 more months working as a teacher, I could finally went back to being a  high school student with lots of hopes in the air. 

I'm 23 years old now. Sometimes, I ask myself: 

Who could be more miserable than a struggling 23 - year - old?

The answer is always "a 24 - year old", "a 25 - year - old", "a 26 - year - old" and the like. It seems almost impossible to go back to my life inside the crystal ball. Most of the time, I hang in there with grace and integrity. At times, I break under the pressure and cry myself to bed at night. But honestly, my bones feel so much stronger now. The authenticity of my existence is constantly built up and renewed each time I get my broken bones mended. I am not looking from the inside like I used to do. In front of my eyes, the whole world is laid out in the vibrancy of blended colors. Where there is green, there is blue. Where there is orange, there is red. The beautiful thing about colors is that no matter how hard you try to change them, they will just blend seamlessly into one another. 

The whole world, like the color wheel, is a playground of living fusion. One that welcomes sadness in the name of "hardship", and joy in the name of "triumph". 

My breakaway from being a plastic figurine definitely cannot guarantee a happy ending. The future holds such mystery that even prophets cannot comprehend. I know, though, that life is only worth living in the harmony of sadness and joy. If I need vigorousness to feel alive, then vigorous shall I be. 

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