What we do.

Apr 19, 2008 00:49

We try to remember because we know we will forget. We start something to finish it. We try to live because we know we'll die. The fright and exhilaration of experience is all that keeps people going. I realize I'm completely focused on novelty, new and unique experience, I know the important parts will become part of my personality and the details will fall to the wayside. Details are both, simultaneously, the most important and unimportant part of existence, of story-telling, of art, of love, of science, of dreams, of conversation, of quiet afternoons spent alone. Details build our world, we would be lost without them, despite the fact that we lose them constantly and consistently. I'm not worried by the fact that I won't remember what I did today. How I read the Times, which websites I surfed, how the wind felt cool as it drifted through my quiet apartment. I won't remember it, but it will become a part of me. Of course I will be lost to time as well, we are all just details, with our world and society being the driving themes. You can zoom out forever, to the beginning of time, but I'm sure there's more to the entirety of existence than just this physical manifestation of our universe. And there's more than that world above us. Choosing your scope would seem to be the most important thing a person can do. I don't know what I want, who I am or why I'm here, but then again neither do you. We share our scope and desire for something more. An explanation, perhaps. Maybe I know what I want, I want to know everything and be part of everything, but how can one strive for a goal when it's impossible and has already occurred? Follow instincts? Mate, eat, rest, play? What happens when you find out that you and everyone around you is a randomly generated machine designed to survive and replicate? What happens when this thought becomes repulsive? Should I accept my ignorance and my desires, blend in, follow the lead of society, another survival machine, as a whole? I ask these questions in earnest; does anyone know what the fuck they are doing? Everyone I talk to and meet are following a passion, honing an art, mastering skills, trying to achieve something. This upsets me greatly. I'm going to law school on a suggestion, a whim, and little else. I like the idea of serving justice, of helping those in need. I doubt I'll be able to do this. When people say they are following their dreams, are they actually following the nonsense their subconscious vomits up during an REM cycle? Do they have a conscious goal? Is passion emotional or logical? I want answers and there is no one or no thing that can provide them. I can't protest, I can't demand of something that isn't there. I want to be alone and to be with others. I want to face hardship and I want to be fat and happy. I feel like my entire being is made of contradictions designed to throw me from one end of every spectrum to the other. I can't tell what I feel, my sight is woefully inadequate, my fingers are cold and shaking. The only form of communication possible is to ask questions. The only answers worth receiving, don't exist.

I read this over and I already don't agree with it. It was written by someone else. A different point of view. Am I just trying to absolve myself of criticism at this point? Self-reflection is the reflection of a mirror in itself.
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