So what is there? Why is it there? Who put it there? How did it get there? And when did it get there and when will it go away? What does this all mean? Or does this all just mean nothing? I’m I trying to reason with inevitability? Is there some purpose? Is the something I’m supposed to do? Is this all part of some grand orchestrated show, or is it just collected masses of coincidence chaotically colliding with each other to make beautifully entertaining circumstance and then just fades into oblivion, never being remembered or learned from. Is every person I meet really there, or is this all just a dream? Do I meet people for a reason, like some elaborately planned destiny constructed in order to maintain focus and purpose, or it all really under my control? Am I supposed to fight my thoughts and destroy my dreams and ambitions with relentless pressure from reason? What happens if I let go of the wheel? What happens if I fight the tide? What happens if I disagree with everything everyone before me has thought? Fight what I was raised to do?
Who am I? I’m aware I have a name and a family. I know my ancestry and where I come from. I know where I was born and where I live. But can I trust that? Can I really accept what is put in front of me, because when I look at something for long enough, it loses itself in my thoughts? Too many times I’ve stared at myself in the mirror wondering who I am, when all the information is given to me. It’s all there but I refuse it. I want more. I’m always craving and lately I’ve been starving. I’ve lost myself in so much social delusion that I can’t seem to find myself again. I’ve become so weak, so accepting that this is how things are and there’s nothing I can do to change it. And yet, I need more. I’m dry, depleted, empty, whatever you want to call it but I need. I’m so filled with desire and yet I do nothing to quench it. I’ve fallen back with the rest of them, back in the crowd, trying to compete at their level. Compete with them over things and people and pride; reduced to simplistic desire and wants. I’ve lost my step, but I keep trying to walk. I need something, and now. I haven’t felt mad in awhile. I’ve been so dull and it’s what’s kept me behind. It’s what’s kept me with all the rest.
I look at those who have come before me. I’ve seen my family grow older and closer to the end, and when facing their mortality, they lose their spark, their fire. I read about people in books, those who make history. Did they ever stop and think, or did they just do? Were they ever scared? Did they ever think maybe this is not what I’m supposed to do? I like to think they did. I look at those who inspire me, and have sculpted me; the people who have given me ideas and stirred my intellect. The sad part about those people is I look at them all in the past. There is no present. Maybe that’s what’s missing? Or maybe it’s love? Or achievement? Or glory? Whatever it is, I need to figure it out.
I don’t feel like myself anymore… and that scares me. It fills me with more fear than anything else every possibly could. I can’t find solitude in my mind anymore. I can’t find it in my heart. I can’t find it in my soul. The world is falling apart around me… my world is falling apart. Everywhere I turn its sadness and depression, the news, personal life, my friend lives… everything. And I for whatever reason, I have the insane feeling of obligation to fix it all. I feel as though if I don’t, no one will and I can’t sleep on that. But how am I supposed to fix it all, when I can’t fix my own life? Or is my life secondary? Or do I just fend for myself, and abandon all the rest? Leave the people behind and take care of myself.
I look for symbols in everything. In my life, in people, in the world, in the things I hear, the things I say and the things I do. Does any of it mean anything? Or am I just looking to assure my doubts with lies and insecurities? I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, all I know is what is behind me. For all I know the world could end, as I write these words and then what? None of this will me anything if it’s not there. But if it might not mean anything, then why do I continue my desire to find a meaning? Why do I keep writing? Why don’t I just do what all the rest do and live for the small things? I could just jump back in the race and compete for the same things… but I can’t. I keep writing. I keep thinking. I keep looking. Even if I never find anything, I’ll keep looking. I’ll keep learning. I’ll keep loving. I’ll keep hoping. That’s what I’m wired to do. I’m already aware that I’m not like everyone else. People don’t concern themselves with half the things I do. There is no one I know, who stays up just to think in writing in the hope that maybe they’ll find something. So does that make me unique? Or am I just mad? Am I so self consumed and doubtful that I can’t even accept simple things like my own existence?
But that feeling I get. That feeling I get when all of the sudden, no matter what I’m doing, I stop and question everything. I question who I am, where I am, why I’m here. Everything I’ve been taught suddenly loses value, and it’s just myself and my questions, always battling, always struggling for control. Maybe the more I question, the madder I feel. That incomparable high that takes me to place I’ve never imagined. It challenges me. It motivates me and fills my soul with energy. It wakes me up to the closest to understanding I’ve ever come. And I’ve been missing that. I’ve been leaving that out and since I have, it’s all gone wrong. My concerns gain weight and slow me down. My fears take over and I fall. I fall to where everyone else is. I fall to the place I dread. I get lazy and won’t pull myself out.
But really, nothing matters. Ultimately, all I am, all everything is, is a collection of molecules. Grouped and organized, but nothing more than little tiny pieces of matter. So what am I afraid of? Death? That’s really all there is isn’t there? At least what I know. There is life, or the experience I’m having now, and there’s death, the experience I’ll be having later. So what am I afraid of… pain? Pain only exists in my head; be it physical, emotional, spiritual, or psychological, the only place pain is created is in my mind. And from that pain, comes fear. And from fear, I lose hope. I become slow; I fill with doubt and question. Then I try to reason with my doubts and then I’m left with less. I’m left than less that I want, less that I need… less than I’m capable of. And then it’s all a waste really. This phenomenon of molecular unification is wasted because of self created deception.
But fear is the only waste. Fear takes what could be and reduces it to what is safe, what is known. But then what do I learn. Everything my sense can detect is nothing more than a collection of those same things that I’m made up of. It’s all one. It’s all the same, it’s just experiencing itself. It just identifies itself in different forms. But somehow, it grew so far apart from itself. It forgot that it’s all the same thing. We forgot that we’re all the same thing. No reason to fear; because nothing matters, because it all matters. There is no should be, there only is, nothing more, nothing less.
It’s all the same and yet different… or perhaps I’m just mad…
But what a day that was…
I actually wrote this before this picture was taken