Journey : Sickness
This is one of the writings I had on my computer. The date on it seems to be June 13th 2003.
Sickness... What makes a person sick? Is is some kind of virus or bacteria that ails their system? Or is it deeper than that? Maybe it's not a physical ailment at all, maybe it's isolation. Maybe there is a sickness that can't be cured with pills or shots. Not a mental sickness, although that may be closer to the answer than all this medication. Or maybe it's loneliness... You can be lonely in a room full of people, in the company of people who care for you. There is a fine line between the people who care for you and the people who you care about. This sickness may blur that line, or even separate you from it. Imagine that you have many friends, a family that cares about you, a life that you seem to be living. None of it is real. There's a line that you can't find because the sickness blinds you to it's true location. You no longer have a sense for what is right and wrong. You find yourself abandoning the ideals and values that have carried you so far because you don't have a real grasp on who or what you are. The purpose behind things becomes dull and washed out. What kind of sickness would rob you of the feeling you always knew. Yes, you can be lonely in a room full of people. Why? Because you feel disconnected from them. They say they're your friends, but you only take it at face value because you've forgotten what it feels like to really be alive. Lets continue on this... What is it really to be alive? Is it having a home, a family, friends that care, a job, a hobby... what really makes us alive? Is it simply to breathe that makes us alive? That would be the obvious answer... but isn't there more? There has to be something that those of us with this sickness are missing. Is it love? The only time I've felt alive was when there was love in my life. But it can't be just that small fact. What is it behind the kisses and tender hugs that makes us feel alive? Maybe it's the feeling of being wanted. But that can't be it, because there are other ways you can feel that you are wanted. What is it that makes this one thing the singular defining point in our lives. This gravitation towards love that everyone feels. Maybe it's physically being with someone, to feel their heartbeat against your chest, to feel the life that seems to fill the object of your affection. Maybe it's all of these things. But why are we made to feel incomplete, so incomplete that we seek to find another that will fill those incomplete parts of us, and one who we can fill just the same? Is it really as primal as having sex, to reproduce? There has to be something else that we're missing... some detail that is so blatently obvious that it's eluded mankind since he could walk upright. Maybe I'm the only one missing it. Maybe this thing that's absent from my life can't be given or taught, written about or told to me. Or it's as simple as purpose. I feel alive when i have purpose. But that's not entirely true. I have many purposes, and all of them are supposedly worthwhile. Maybe it's not knowing. I have many times in my life known about my future, I've worked and labored, and all for a purpose. Maybe it's those three things that make us truely alive... love, purpose, knowing our future. But these are all abstract ideas. I'm still no closer to finding out the truth.
Sickness... What makes a person sick? Is is some kind of virus or bacteria that ails their system? Or is it deeper than that? Maybe it's not a physical ailment at all, maybe it's isolation. Maybe there is a sickness that can't be cured with pills or shots. Not a mental sickness, although that may be closer to the answer than all this medication. Or maybe it's loneliness... You can be lonely in a room full of people, in the company of people who care for you. There is a fine line between the people who care for you and the people who you care about. This sickness may blur that line, or even separate you from it. Imagine that you have many friends, a family that cares about you, a life that you seem to be living. None of it is real. There's a line that you can't find because the sickness blinds you to it's true location. You no longer have a sense for what is right and wrong. You find yourself abandoning the ideals and values that have carried you so far because you don't have a real grasp on who or what you are. The purpose behind things becomes dull and washed out. What kind of sickness would rob you of the feeling you always knew. Yes, you can be lonely in a room full of people. Why? Because you feel disconnected from them. They say they're your friends, but you only take it at face value because you've forgotten what it feels like to really be alive. Lets continue on this... What is it really to be alive? Is it having a home, a family, friends that care, a job, a hobby... what really makes us alive? Is it simply to breathe that makes us alive? That would be the obvious answer... but isn't there more? There has to be something that those of us with this sickness are missing. Is it love? The only time I've felt alive was when there was love in my life. But it can't be just that small fact. What is it behind the kisses and tender hugs that makes us feel alive? Maybe it's the feeling of being wanted. But that can't be it, because there are other ways you can feel that you are wanted. What is it that makes this one thing the singular defining point in our lives. This gravitation towards love that everyone feels. Maybe it's physically being with someone, to feel their heartbeat against your chest, to feel the life that seems to fill the object of your affection. Maybe it's all of these things. But why are we made to feel incomplete, so incomplete that we seek to find another that will fill those incomplete parts of us, and one who we can fill just the same? Is it really as primal as having sex, to reproduce? There has to be something else that we're missing... some detail that is so blatently obvious that it's eluded mankind since he could walk upright. Maybe I'm the only one missing it. Maybe this thing that's absent from my life can't be given or taught, written about or told to me. Or it's as simple as purpose. I feel alive when i have purpose. But that's not entirely true. I have many purposes, and all of them are supposedly worthwhile. Maybe it's not knowing. I have many times in my life known about my future, I've worked and labored, and all for a purpose. Maybe it's those three things that make us truely alive... love, purpose, knowing our future. But these are all abstract ideas. I'm still no closer to finding out the truth.