I love when this happens.
Life is made up of all these tiny, minuscule changes; some seem huge in comparison to normal life as we see it, others are swept under the rug of more exciting thoughts and activities. But we never stand still, no matter how unbearably stagnant our lives may seem.
Maybe we work at a breakneck pace, afraid of the silence we'd have to face otherwise. Or maybe there's a paradoxical push-and-pull dynamic with our loved ones...independence and belonging seemingly at odds with each other. Or maybe we just don't know ourselves well enough to combine the two.
Some people will do anything for a little closeness or a little meaning for their time spent alive . Free will is a scary illusion, and so is fate or predestination, whatever you want to call it. I used to feel that every tiny action I made created these huge ripples in space, affecting people and bugs and rocks on the other side of the world...or even influencing some other galaxy light years away.
I thought I could influence my environment by rituals, prayers, spells, superstition. I thought everything had poetic potential if only I'd try hard enough to reach that creative feeling lodged deep in my stomach. Bad things happened; people died and I thought I was partly to blame in some way. A bus came early or I'd get a scholarship and I was convinced that God was rewarding me for praying more than masturbating...or something. Silly connections. Why did I see them when they weren't there?
I'm glad for the way the world is, most of the time. I don't mind the pain of others, or even my own, as much any more. Joy is still there, but it's...different. It's tempered by probabilities and parsimony. And I like that. Maybe science is my new religion. But I'd like to think that I don't need to find a symmetrical replacement.
I love differently now. I need people in a way that I didn't before, and I judge them differently too. Sometimes viewing the series of events that have composed my life gives me a feeling of madness, as if the person living it all couldn't possibly be me. But reality is what you make it, I guess.
My pain feels more empty than full now. And my joys are tempered with everything else going on...I don't lose myself in the childish oblivion that I used to cherish. I suppose that is a sign of my getting older. And I don't mind, because I'm happy.
...But I don't think we should ever stop wanting more, either a little or a lot. I'm doing my best to navigate. I don't feel very cool, but I feel more myself than ever. Even since the last time I said that.
xoxo
Maybe we work at a breakneck pace, afraid of the silence we'd have to face otherwise. Or maybe there's a paradoxical push-and-pull dynamic with our loved ones...independence and belonging seemingly at odds with each other. Or maybe we just don't know ourselves well enough to combine the two.
Some people will do anything for a little closeness or a little meaning for their time spent alive . Free will is a scary illusion, and so is fate or predestination, whatever you want to call it. I used to feel that every tiny action I made created these huge ripples in space, affecting people and bugs and rocks on the other side of the world...or even influencing some other galaxy light years away.
I thought I could influence my environment by rituals, prayers, spells, superstition. I thought everything had poetic potential if only I'd try hard enough to reach that creative feeling lodged deep in my stomach. Bad things happened; people died and I thought I was partly to blame in some way. A bus came early or I'd get a scholarship and I was convinced that God was rewarding me for praying more than masturbating...or something. Silly connections. Why did I see them when they weren't there?
I'm glad for the way the world is, most of the time. I don't mind the pain of others, or even my own, as much any more. Joy is still there, but it's...different. It's tempered by probabilities and parsimony. And I like that. Maybe science is my new religion. But I'd like to think that I don't need to find a symmetrical replacement.
I love differently now. I need people in a way that I didn't before, and I judge them differently too. Sometimes viewing the series of events that have composed my life gives me a feeling of madness, as if the person living it all couldn't possibly be me. But reality is what you make it, I guess.
My pain feels more empty than full now. And my joys are tempered with everything else going on...I don't lose myself in the childish oblivion that I used to cherish. I suppose that is a sign of my getting older. And I don't mind, because I'm happy.
...But I don't think we should ever stop wanting more, either a little or a lot. I'm doing my best to navigate. I don't feel very cool, but I feel more myself than ever. Even since the last time I said that.
xoxo