Could have, would have, should have

George Eliot said, it’s never too late to be who you might have been. I personally think it’s a dangerous quote. Dangerous, because it incites such optimism when you first read it. Then through time, you start to shift the focus to the latter part and start to question: but it doesn’t mean that you get to be. And then you start to have reservation. Finally, there appears this really complicated feeling, quietly zooming in, subtle, but yet it sticks with you, kind of like remorse, or regret, but only about something that’s never there. 

Your life’s the same. But often, especially after being over excited about, say, some trivial, or say, you happen to catch your own reflection in a mirror, or a glass door, and you look like nothing you’ve imagined, worse, unfortunately. you hear a passive aggressive voice inside your head, asking: Well, what do you think? Is it never too late? You almost want to call it void. But again, it’s of such little importance, you wonder if you should call it anything at all. It became so disappointing that it hurts.

But ultimately, why does it matter to argue what you could have been, would have done, should have done, while you will always be what you’ve turned out to be, not under a flattering light, saddened by remembering all those plans that you failed to carry through?

The idea of believing in a big break is so fragile that it’s like gambling while you’re not even in the game. Life, consists of so many variables, is simply too vulnerable when you forestall too bright a blueprint before chances start pooling in, that is, if they do pool in. I have another quote here, from Match point, the movie by Woody Allen:

“People are afraid to face how great a part of life is dependent on luck. It's scary to think so much is out of one's control. There are moments in a match when the ball hits the top of the net, and for a split second, it can either go forward or fall back. With a little luck, it goes forward, and you win. Or maybe it doesn't, and you lose.” 

In the end, you just don’t understand why you’re asking all those questions. Or, are there questions?