The Future
My birthday was yesterday, I'm 19 now. I honestly don't feel older, I don't feel like I've accomplished a whole lot in the past year. Many of the vices that I've fought still preside on the fields that sway with cold winds. I've concluded that it is a war that can truly be won, only intervals of time in which one of us has the advantage. This is not exactly bad news, as much as it is a realization of the truth; life really isn't anything special, in the larger scheme of things. I guess that really isn't a realization, I already knew that but it's something I've dwelled on more so as of recent.
I feel as though a great beast had taken residence in the waters within me, and now it has died and is putrifying, its sickness pouring into the now murky depths, spreading its pollution throughout the sea. Although the present does not seem so dismal, I see no future, no conclusion. It's so easy for one to assume that the future is base and easily written out but the concept of how these things are acheived is often overlooked. How am I going to be a psychologist if I can't even fulfill the requirements for a major in psychology? How will I ever sire a family if I have never been unable to maintain any relationship I've every been in? For what purpose do I live? Is there a purpose for life?
Sometimes I see the world as if everyone I know is swelling with happiness while I, now only an observer, begin to rot in the presence of such joy, as if it is toxic to my being. The older I become, the more I begin to believe that some people are just meant to be alone, maybe that's my way of rationalizing situations that I cannot inteperet. There are times when I would like to forget I ever lived here, times when I'd like to just pack everything I own up and leave it all behind and begin a new life, devoid of the mistakes I've made over the years. How could I have made so many mistakes? In reality, I cannot run and even if I could, in my stubborn pride I would stay even if it means disaster.
Now is a time of stagnacy, there is nothing for me to look forward to, nothing meaningful at least. Perhaps if I can delve deep enough into the underground, I can come out on the other side. I could also try to climb out but I often feel that there's nothing waitng for me at the top, would anyone even care? Everything in our tiny little world os so unclear, so uncertain. The lesson learned this year is that everything changes, always; nothing is permanent, everything is finite. As humans it is part of our propensity to defy this, bit it is an impossible battle. Maybe the the idea of human fate is the love of the idea of infinity, to dream of the impossible. To be human is to have faith in contradiction, it is to live forever in defiance.
I feel as though a great beast had taken residence in the waters within me, and now it has died and is putrifying, its sickness pouring into the now murky depths, spreading its pollution throughout the sea. Although the present does not seem so dismal, I see no future, no conclusion. It's so easy for one to assume that the future is base and easily written out but the concept of how these things are acheived is often overlooked. How am I going to be a psychologist if I can't even fulfill the requirements for a major in psychology? How will I ever sire a family if I have never been unable to maintain any relationship I've every been in? For what purpose do I live? Is there a purpose for life?
Sometimes I see the world as if everyone I know is swelling with happiness while I, now only an observer, begin to rot in the presence of such joy, as if it is toxic to my being. The older I become, the more I begin to believe that some people are just meant to be alone, maybe that's my way of rationalizing situations that I cannot inteperet. There are times when I would like to forget I ever lived here, times when I'd like to just pack everything I own up and leave it all behind and begin a new life, devoid of the mistakes I've made over the years. How could I have made so many mistakes? In reality, I cannot run and even if I could, in my stubborn pride I would stay even if it means disaster.
Now is a time of stagnacy, there is nothing for me to look forward to, nothing meaningful at least. Perhaps if I can delve deep enough into the underground, I can come out on the other side. I could also try to climb out but I often feel that there's nothing waitng for me at the top, would anyone even care? Everything in our tiny little world os so unclear, so uncertain. The lesson learned this year is that everything changes, always; nothing is permanent, everything is finite. As humans it is part of our propensity to defy this, bit it is an impossible battle. Maybe the the idea of human fate is the love of the idea of infinity, to dream of the impossible. To be human is to have faith in contradiction, it is to live forever in defiance.