There are so many memories, feelings I wish I could erase. All I long for is a purged conscience, cleansed of every aching sensation that tears apart my heart. I am so restless, so exhausted from trying to be strong when all I really want to do is let the pain in, and let my soul take a break from barricading itself from others. It is the most difficult thing–to live in the present, and have hope for the future, when the events of the past cripple us.
My mind is like a magic eight ball…and I shake my thoughts, hoping that they reveal a clear, fulfilling path. But the thing is… is my mind is like a magic eight ball. The message that shows up is completely random, and it does not depend on the questions I ask it.
If I ask the ball the same question several times, each time shaking it once more, each time I will be fed a different answer: no, yes, maybe, try again later, in your dreams, do it, don’t do it, forget about it. All of these answers have the potential to asses a single input. I feel as though in every situation I am guided by a perspective that is as partial and misleading as the answers that a magic eight ball provides us with. And yet all of my actions, every single one, relies upon such assessments.
My thoughts…they are so powerful. They are the only thing that matters, however rapidly changing. Five months ago, they are what condemned my every action, what scorned me for my flaws, what bullied me into wishful suicide, what brought me to my knees…begging to be gifted a relief…begging to be handed the happiness that every person deserves. The origin of these thoughts, my reason, is the same source that motivated me to persevere. These thoughts–later– saw logic in treating myself nicely, in wanting to witness the beautiful fortuities in life, in wanting for myself what I crave for others to have. Logic in peaceful acceptance and in making my actions meaningful, however minute in appraisal.
The mind that produced thoughts of self-destruction is the same mind that now seeks revitalization. And the only thing that blossoms such a change is my thoughts…shaken up…revealing an alternative pathway. My magic eight ball gave me a random answer and I acted on it. And I got lucky. It is frighteningly that simple
Jan 3, 2013
I wonder why I respect others more than I respect myself
And I wonder why I treat others better than I treat myself
Oct 7, 2012
I just want to go to bed
to numb my pain and stymie my worry
to relieve myself of regret for just one moment
even if it means escaping into an unrealistic serenity–
at least I’m away from feeling,
from a distress that anchors my soul
But once my eyes open, reality will rush in, saturating the dream world that I thought for a second was my own. Why are we so fearful of the future? Of what we cannot control? I want to pause, rewind, and tell myself : I have no reason to be doubtful of what is to come– I have found ways to deal with every disappointment. And I will continue to do so. I am afraid of facing a misfortune that I cannot cope with. Surely this will come. In the mean time, my paranoia is preventing me from appreciating the uniqueness of good feeling.
August 5, 2012
Something about optimism is repulsive to me. Distorting the truth… as a coping mechanism to help us face what is painfully lurid. Sometimes I can’t tell the difference between cynicism and pragmatism. Because of this, I have a tough time defining reality. Is it right to continue on with a new-found perspective constructed by the lies we tell ourselves?
People like to believe that there is one perfectly compatible person for them–and that they will eventually find this person. The uncensored reality is that this does not happen for everyone. Not even close. Yet so many of us make decisions, every day, that are galvanized by the belief that it is certain we will meet our match. Who we are, the choices we make, reflect whether or not we believe this. It is wrong for society to set the bar so high only for everyone to be overwhelmingly disappointed.
August 7, 2012
It’s funny how I think: If I experience certain things, the result is that my life will be mended forever–that the hurt will cease and scars will erase. All happiness is, all that perfection is, all that contentment is, is a mirage that we unabatingly journey towards, exhausting ourselves in a quixotic attempt to do so.
Foolishly mistaking the fulfillment we aim for as a fixed and unlimited source, once we reach our destination, we are always surprised to find that what we longed for satisfies us only fleetingly.
Oct 12, 2012
Thinking up a strategy is more difficult than actually deciding that I want to kill myself . The funny thing is, is that everyone goes batshit crazy when people want to kill themselves, without even realizing that they will die eventually ANYWAYS. AND SO WILL YOU. It’s like, you care so much about putting your efforts into preventing something that will happen no matter what. This makes me laugh…a tired laugh… So what I want to do is not tragic. It’s not sad. Or unfortunate. It’s what will happen to you in 60 years as well. I just beat you to it. My life and your life are equally insignificant no matter how long we live them.
You wonder how a person can have this outlook. You mean, how a person can see things the way they are, and continue living? Well a person can’t. Or at least I cant. You might be sad that I’m gone. But don’t worry, the sun will engulf the earth in approx. 5 billion years and none of this will matter anyways. Not me talking. Not anything I do or anything I have said to you. Any pain you feel will cease; it’s just a matter of time. But you will continue…perhaps you will embrace your animalistic instincts to progress or your inherent fear of death. But I have neither of these.
I sat in on a philosophy class the other day. The professor was analyzing “ The Stranger” by Camus. The stranger is a man who lives his life knowing that each moment is equal in weight and in significance–in that each moment bears no significance at all. He could kill a person or not kill a person. He could marry a certain woman or not marry her. He is desensitized to emotion. The professor pauses, looks at the class, and says, “ Not one of you thinks like this–and that is why this man is a stranger.” Well, you’re wrong professor. And for this reason, the chances of me finding someone who can relate to me is…no chance at all. And you, saying that, only confirm what I thought to be true but wasn’t quite sure yet.
This is what will happen. I will go to chemistry tomorrow. Ill go to physics.. to history.. Ill live for the next month..the next year.. perhaps for the rest of my life. I don’t know. But I’ll tell you this.. that I welcome death.. I wish more than anything that it would take me now.
Oct 28, 2012
Screw this absurdity that all of us are thrown into whether we realize it or not. Unfortunately for me, I have realized it. I really don’t want to forget this dream I had that allowed me to, for once, let my fear of death and of eternity envelope me without instilling panic. In my dream, despite being engulfed in another world that obfuscates reality, my fear is real. I know death is coming and I feel it nearing. Emotions flood. My animal instincts fear the cessation of power, of control– of an abating heart and of a final breathless sigh. Suddenly it is not death that I fear but what my death will bring onto others, onto my family.
This awareness severs a deeper , more horrifying wound; I am more scared of this than the termination of my consciousness. The termination of my consciousness. A state in which I have no memory of the past, no awareness of the present, no expectations of the future. No feeling, no thoughts. My vision is slowly overtaken by a blinding light. Though my fear is malignant and inescapable, hope finds me. Acceptance finds me. I am extricated free and brought to peace. An understanding that within a few seconds I will feel nothing at all—a place where fear can never find me again, a dark corner of existence in which I will not be aware that I have even lived. I will not be aware at all. Fear will not find me here.
May 4, 2011
It is truly remarkable the power of the mind. When we are rewarded with happiness we praise this God, and we hold him accountable for everything good in the world; and then when we are faced with remorse and disappointment, still, we instinctively retreat to the same God that is responsible for our happiness. We assure ourselves: everything must happen for a reason. . . there is a reason for our pain. God escapes this blame– and we proceed through this cycle over and over again, conditioning our psyche to repeat, repeat, repeat, until we preclude all skepticism for flaw and do not question our reasoning for encouraging this system. After all, why would we?? Seems like a pretty good deal: Rationalization magnified—relieving us of any indecisiveness of why bad things happen, and restoring in us optimism every step of the way.
But the thing is, once I removed myself from this cycle I could see the apparent delusion that everyone else was experiencing. I’m not saying that it in fact was a delusion; but I could, from then on out, see the reality that God could be this delusion, and that there is little evidence, beyond the faith that distorts our pragmatic thought, that substantiates otherwise. There is one thing that I am doing that I hadn’t done before a year ago: I am seeing the world as it is. And yet I crave—I hunger—( whether God is real or not) for my delusional state of mind.
Dec 28, 2009
I look at my life in its entirety and I am only disgusted with my choices and my circumstance. I just wish there was one answer. One complete and substantial answer to my problems—or merely a sign, a guide. But there is nothing… only a dead end, a disappointment, a longing that is ubiquitous no matter how many things go right for me. I am so terrified of what lies ahead. Defining decisions that I will be forced to make eventually and I am not prepared. I am nearly 17 and I reflect back on my life and cannot make out of it a conclusive meaning–a crucial characteristic that I have that will take me somewhere in life. I am honest—at times brutally—and caring. I care about people and decisions that others do not. I see a person suffering and it somehow becomes my problem, my suffering. I look around as people scoff at a persons failure and I do not see the reasoning behind their vilification. Why would you want to ridicule a person who is already under disparagement? Perhaps this is my defining characteristic—compassion. I instinctively, and without hesitation, attempt to understand the complications others are experiencing ; it is second nature for me to put myself in others places and to act accordingly.
I am nearly 17 and yet I feel more lost than I have ever been. I look ahead, ahead to nothing. No dreams, or ambitions. Every time I chase after something I succeed at I end up surrendering to the possibility of failure. Every time. My life is an accumulation of paths covered in retraced steps. There are several paths, but each one leads to a single stop light