Whys and Wherefores

I've just finished reading the last volume of Y: The Last Man. The series ended months ago, and I was really tempted to buy the last issue when it came out because I just HAD to see how it ends. I managed to control myself, thinking that since I started reading the series on paperback, the whole 10 volumes would simply look better in my bookshelf. How my bookshelf looks really matters. I'm weird like that.

The ending was perfect, there was no other way to end it. The feeling was bittersweet as I closed the tenth volume. Sure, the ending wasn't what you can call happy... at least not for everyone--- could a happy ending be possible given such a premise? But the bittersweet feeling transcends whatever it was I saw on paper. It was like saying goodbye to old friends. Even though I only picked up the first volume last November, it's as if I've known these characters, not simply fictionally, but also personally, for years. That's how good this series is, and it's something I'd definitely recommend to everyone.

Before the epilogue, Yorick Brown was my age. Then on the final issue, it was 60 years later. As I returned the volume to my bookshelf, I started thinking... What would my life be sixty years from now? Where would I be? What would I have accomplished? What would I look back on? Started school at the age of three, excelled during the first half of my academic years, living the life of a nerd, then growing tired of it all on the later half, but not to the extent of failing. Made one wrong decision as I chose which path to take in college, and with a series of unfortunate events, here i am now. I tried to stick with it two years ago, just go with the flow, I said. But like all paths that we are forced to take, even when the road lies on a field, to us it's always uphill. I've grown weary and I stopped walking. I took other directions with no compass or map, And I'm going nowhere. My peers are leaving this country in the truckloads because "a career in medicine doesn't have a bright future in this city"--- those who say otherwise are ignorant. If only it was easy for me to leave this country, but both sefish and unselfish reasons continue to hold me back. Most of my family and friends are here, I'm not sure if could thrive for long in a place where there's nobody familiar. It wouldn't be much of an issue if not for my stupid principles, of wanting to serve my countrymen, of wanting to reach out to those who could really use my help... my conscience would keep tugging on me if I turned my back on them. As I got home this evening, my father reminded me of the deadline for application for residency training. He couldn't seem to understand why I'm on a standstill. It's not just because of the shame of going back to the place that you've left, akin to eating the food you've just vomited--- although shame IS a big factor, I admit that. I wonder what's the use of residency training here when you'll be back to where you started afterward? Most of my co-workers at the hospital have already finished residency training, and yet we have the same designation, as if they've never undergone any training at all... because no patients were coming in when they tried starting a private practice, moonlighting again was the only option to earn money. How fucked up is that?! Fast forward 6 years. Let's say I did go back, and I stuck with my decision. What now? More training, fellowship this time. And after? Try to start my private practice, and with some luck it would take off. With some luck I'd be stable enough to start a family--- at the young age of almost 40. After all that training, just 20 short years of private practice, and with my family's medical history, I'm bound to inherit a few illnesses, which would definitely hasten the wear and tear. I'd be a senior citizen by the time my kids reach their 20's. I would've tried to be a good father, because I've made a vow to never be like mine. With dumb luck, there's a chance that they'd still care for me genuinely by then, and not treated like some excess baggage that they are forced to carry. A few more years of gradually increasing dependence, inching slowly towards uselessness and senility. And then... I'd look back.

That's the general plan. That's the blueprint. Too plain and too simple, lacking details and decorations... no bells and whistles, no experiences that I would love to look back on again and again, no memories to cherish for life, nothing to be proud of. But life is one big puzzle, things rarely transpire as the way we plan or imagine them to be...The universe has a way of making even the best plans go awry.

Sixty years from now, I wish I would have a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment as I look around at the place I'm in, as I look at the people I know. I wish i could look back on something that would make me feel glad, alive, proud... something that could make me feel young again... something that would make me thankful and happy to be alive--- that's something I would wish for, because as of now, there is nothing. I couldn't dream of anything more, because that's the closest one can have to a happy ending in real life... a sense of accomplishment and genuine contentment, with not much thought as to the whys and wherefores in this life.