I wonder about space, a lot. Space and I, have always been frenemies.
Staring into space is almost second nature to me. The infinite questions that arise each time I space out are not limited to galaxies, stars and dark matter though. I ponder about the space I occupy in this world. The space I hold in the hearts of loved ones, the space they hold in mine. Then, what about the people who occupy my mind, some who don’t deserve that space at all? Bad memories living rent free for years? What about the happy, beloved memories that are getting frayed at the edges with time, that occupy the safest, deepest space in my heart?
I’ve always felt that I do not really belong here. As a kid, there have been times I’d wondered whether I was an extraterrestrial. That of course was probably due to an overdose of TV shows with alien stars in the 1980s. I was born Buddhist, so I used to wonder about rebirth, the circle of life, the space between death and life, the space we eventually go to, when it all truly ends.
For most of my adult life, I have been on the large side, partly due to a medical condition; so physically, I take up more space. Which I was rather apologetic for, and embarrassed about. From doctors, to random strangers to friends and family, everyone had something to say about that particular space. Which made me wonder about how the world is quite reluctant to give space…
