long rant
I couldn't sleep last night. Every time I started dozing off, thunder would shake the house. So instead of sleep, I started thinking.
I used to be full of passion, full of life. I wanted to know what happened. I wanted to know how easily life and heart ache beat it out of me, almost completely. I say that because there are occasional spirts where it comes out. Sort of like the child the peaks his head out of his room when his parents take a break from fighting, only to run back inside once it starts again.
I wanted to list down things that I used to be passionate about, everything I feel I've lost that made me a really great person.
Perhaps the easiest thing to say that I lost was passion in general. I used to feel it, uncontrollably, take over at times. It was like I was guided by someone I completely trusted, I didn't fear what would happen.
My thoughts aren't there anymore when it comes to writing. I remember how I used to be in a car with Diana, and a song would be played and I could describe the scene that I envision with it, and it made sense. Any song could make me see a scene, which easily translated onto paper. I can't do that now. My fingers don't have a story to tell. My heart doesn't either.
Love. Yeah, love. How could someone not be passionate about it? And yet, I'm not. Maybe after enough of the same old story each time, I learned to see it as a word, not a feeling. That's really sad to think so. I know it exists because I see it in other people, but it's been a long time, and I really don't know if I have it, or if I'd know what to do if it was there. It's a little hard to explain, and yet it's over done.
Sometimes I feel like Agent Smith is right when he says Could it be for love? Illusions, Mr. Anderson. Vagaries of perception. The temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose.
Then again, Rama-Kandra makes a lot of sense too:
Neo: I just have never...
Rama-Kandra: ...heard a program speak of love?
Neo: It's a... human emotion.
Rama-Kandra: No, it is a word. What matters is the connection the word implies. I see that you are in love. Can you tell me what you would give to hold on to that connection?
Neo: Anything.
Rama-Kandra: Then perhaps the reason you're here is not so different from the reason I'm here.
It is just a word, and what does matter is the connection it implies. However many times I feel as if I've lost my meaning of that connection. I don't think it's fear. I fear it's anger towards what it has done.
Helping people. I used to love helping people. They would call me or talk to me online and ask for advice. I can't even count the number of times I gave the hard truth and someone got mad at me, only to come back sometime later, thanking me for what I did. I guess most people sugarcoat everything so that it sounds good, instead of doing what is asked of them, to tell it like it is.
I have a box at my parents house full of emails and letters thanking me, telling me how much I made sense. Most of them are from high school which just made me believe I either grew up too fast, or didn't have much fun as a child. I always took things too seriously.
Making people laugh. Now that was a passion I was proud to have. Sometimes I was great and couldn't be stopped. Other times mte had to explain the joke I told because it was so bad. Either way it got a laugh, or an odd look. I guess after being told many times that I wasn't funny by some people that really had no sense of humor, I decided that some people just didn't want to laugh.
I guess that's a good list of how I feel.
Feel...that's what I want. I want to feel again, only in a different way. I don't want to feel anger, or sadness. I want to feel that I'm doing something good, that I can still impress myself and those around me. God, it's been so long since I've gotten out of bed with hope for the day that I HATE getting out of bed.
I've mentioned this so many times that everyone knows it, but I'm still going to say it again. Kat once told me that it made her sad that I couldn't see the great things in me that she could. I guess that's more true now than ever. If there is anything great in me I certainly do not see it.
But that doesn't mean I don't want to, and that gives me hope.
And that hope makes me wonder where it will lead me this time.
I used to be full of passion, full of life. I wanted to know what happened. I wanted to know how easily life and heart ache beat it out of me, almost completely. I say that because there are occasional spirts where it comes out. Sort of like the child the peaks his head out of his room when his parents take a break from fighting, only to run back inside once it starts again.
I wanted to list down things that I used to be passionate about, everything I feel I've lost that made me a really great person.
Perhaps the easiest thing to say that I lost was passion in general. I used to feel it, uncontrollably, take over at times. It was like I was guided by someone I completely trusted, I didn't fear what would happen.
My thoughts aren't there anymore when it comes to writing. I remember how I used to be in a car with Diana, and a song would be played and I could describe the scene that I envision with it, and it made sense. Any song could make me see a scene, which easily translated onto paper. I can't do that now. My fingers don't have a story to tell. My heart doesn't either.
Love. Yeah, love. How could someone not be passionate about it? And yet, I'm not. Maybe after enough of the same old story each time, I learned to see it as a word, not a feeling. That's really sad to think so. I know it exists because I see it in other people, but it's been a long time, and I really don't know if I have it, or if I'd know what to do if it was there. It's a little hard to explain, and yet it's over done.
Sometimes I feel like Agent Smith is right when he says Could it be for love? Illusions, Mr. Anderson. Vagaries of perception. The temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose.
Then again, Rama-Kandra makes a lot of sense too:
Neo: I just have never...
Rama-Kandra: ...heard a program speak of love?
Neo: It's a... human emotion.
Rama-Kandra: No, it is a word. What matters is the connection the word implies. I see that you are in love. Can you tell me what you would give to hold on to that connection?
Neo: Anything.
Rama-Kandra: Then perhaps the reason you're here is not so different from the reason I'm here.
It is just a word, and what does matter is the connection it implies. However many times I feel as if I've lost my meaning of that connection. I don't think it's fear. I fear it's anger towards what it has done.
Helping people. I used to love helping people. They would call me or talk to me online and ask for advice. I can't even count the number of times I gave the hard truth and someone got mad at me, only to come back sometime later, thanking me for what I did. I guess most people sugarcoat everything so that it sounds good, instead of doing what is asked of them, to tell it like it is.
I have a box at my parents house full of emails and letters thanking me, telling me how much I made sense. Most of them are from high school which just made me believe I either grew up too fast, or didn't have much fun as a child. I always took things too seriously.
Making people laugh. Now that was a passion I was proud to have. Sometimes I was great and couldn't be stopped. Other times mte had to explain the joke I told because it was so bad. Either way it got a laugh, or an odd look. I guess after being told many times that I wasn't funny by some people that really had no sense of humor, I decided that some people just didn't want to laugh.
I guess that's a good list of how I feel.
Feel...that's what I want. I want to feel again, only in a different way. I don't want to feel anger, or sadness. I want to feel that I'm doing something good, that I can still impress myself and those around me. God, it's been so long since I've gotten out of bed with hope for the day that I HATE getting out of bed.
I've mentioned this so many times that everyone knows it, but I'm still going to say it again. Kat once told me that it made her sad that I couldn't see the great things in me that she could. I guess that's more true now than ever. If there is anything great in me I certainly do not see it.
But that doesn't mean I don't want to, and that gives me hope.
And that hope makes me wonder where it will lead me this time.