(no subject)
My problem is really that I care too much. I want you to be proud of me, proud to know me. I want to be worthy of your affections.
Of course I'm plagued with insecurity, who isn't? Why has it become so much worse recently, you ask? Because this is the first time I've ever felt that all my worst suspicions about myself were unequivically true. I'm of two minds about it all: the first is that emotional, frustrated, hormonal side--ready to just give up and weep at the prospect of more ignorance and failure. The second part is the calm, rational, detached side. The latter is exceedingly disgusted and hateful of the pathetic and ineffective efforts of the former. I'm hurt and I hate myself for it. I want to do well, I want to be impressive, I want to serve and make a difference. I have to know that I will have lived, not survived. There are so many things on this earth I want to do, to be, and to see. There is so much potential for good, and such a colossal dissapointment everytime I fail to meet it. Like Anne of Green Gables noted: it is not pragmatic to have ideals, because they can never be accomplished, by definition. However, ideals are intrinsically important to a full and meaningful live. You can't live unless you live for something. My life won't be worth anything unless I can do better things for more people, unless I can find a way to have a positive effect on the world. Otherwise, what will my existence mean? A small contribution to global warming, and a large contribution to trash production is what.
The theological opposite of despair is love. The way to cure despair is to create love and spread it.
My mission is clear. It's also unattainable. The distinction comes when you realized that unattainable is a far cry from an exercise in futility.
Of course I'm plagued with insecurity, who isn't? Why has it become so much worse recently, you ask? Because this is the first time I've ever felt that all my worst suspicions about myself were unequivically true. I'm of two minds about it all: the first is that emotional, frustrated, hormonal side--ready to just give up and weep at the prospect of more ignorance and failure. The second part is the calm, rational, detached side. The latter is exceedingly disgusted and hateful of the pathetic and ineffective efforts of the former. I'm hurt and I hate myself for it. I want to do well, I want to be impressive, I want to serve and make a difference. I have to know that I will have lived, not survived. There are so many things on this earth I want to do, to be, and to see. There is so much potential for good, and such a colossal dissapointment everytime I fail to meet it. Like Anne of Green Gables noted: it is not pragmatic to have ideals, because they can never be accomplished, by definition. However, ideals are intrinsically important to a full and meaningful live. You can't live unless you live for something. My life won't be worth anything unless I can do better things for more people, unless I can find a way to have a positive effect on the world. Otherwise, what will my existence mean? A small contribution to global warming, and a large contribution to trash production is what.
The theological opposite of despair is love. The way to cure despair is to create love and spread it.
My mission is clear. It's also unattainable. The distinction comes when you realized that unattainable is a far cry from an exercise in futility.