FUTILITY
Sometimes I notice the night sky after a snowfall: deep, fiery, passionate orange. Just a tint.
It's a counteraction; the snow was too cold for the sky to handle, and even in the darkest time it rebels with its own glowing fire. It's the warmth we cannot feel, but maybe see.
I think of Halloween, October twilights and summer evenings with sunsets spanning across the horizon, the ocean the only cold. Snow doesn't exist there, while footprints in the sand are just polka dots on the canvas, shells and stones welcome stains. The lowest temperature is the highest it its polar opposite season.
We're living in the polar opposite season. Is there something about winter that's so depressing? Does the snow weigh us down, are we hailed upon by icy rocks that spare our skin but penetrate within? It could perhaps be.
I'm weighed down. The snow is cold, it's piled on, blizzard after blizzard. As soon as it starts to melt, it snows again. My toes are frozen in the ice below, and any movement to pull free is purely futile.
Isn't everything essentially futile?
There's only so much resistance I can put in. I can only keep pushing for so long. I'm only so strong.
I feel as though I'm falling back into sophomore year, sometimes.
I compare this all --- constantly, in my head --- to sophomore year.
I find the patterns in everything.
The patterns make everything predictable.
I try to make it predictable.
Maybe I'll be prepared?
Trail mix can only aid me so far.
It can't feed me for long.
This falling doesn't do anything, but I can't help it. I can feel my mind racing.
Everything's starting to feel real again. Almost.
It hadn't felt real for a while... dream sequence, if you will?
Living dream, living in a cloud. Behind a fog.
Life is a fog.
It's foggy, I'm blurry. The world's blurry.
I tried to tell myself that the blurriness would make it more beautiful, would make it hurt less.
...futile.
I know I've given up on my dreams. I can barely recall them, even participate in them. Dreams? What are those? I only recognize the nightmares, strangemares, the things of my slumber.
Something is always after me, something is always haunting me. Memories, people... I'm being chased in that world.
And yet, that is the true unreal, the only happiness. The fake unreality lasted for ages.
Reality hits me in bursts.
It cumulates, and then I've returned to that same old mentality I tried so hard to leave.
For the first time in ages I looked into the mirror and saw that Jordan.
That Jordan, sophomore year, everything so ugly and raw.
Raw and shaking, hurt and confused, hopeful for the most futile things.
Futile.
And then I question why? Perhaps this is the way it's supposed to be? Perhaps I caused this domino effect of why everything just isn't... right in the world? If I hadn't spoken to this person, if I hadn't blinked or breathed at this very moment in the past, would everything have been better?
Everything I've done has had some negative effect.
It has to have.
There is just way too much. Too many television channels, so many languages, all set in unison. Wars, terrorism, starvation, weather channel, sitcoms, dramas, movie marathons, "reality" TV.
I almost feel to pathetic to explain it all.
It just hits me, sometimes, how alone I really am. It's overwhelming, the sensation. This puzzle just isn't fitting. My future is so unsure, so improbable at this point. I only want something better, but I have no way to get there. I have no motivation to get there, because it's all so futile. I sometimes feel as though each laugh is a betrayal.
I need more.
Every time I feel as though I'm getting closer, it falls away. Every hope towards rekindling, change, and what I feel should just be, what should EXIST and breathe in my world, what should come alive... wasted hope.
I think it's wasted hope.
Fragmentation.
I don't know how to be happy.
I don't think I'm allowed to be happy. I am destined to fall back into all the patterns, it just keeps happening.
My life is one huge tessellation.
But everything just piles on all at once.
All that snow.
Every day, a different snow.
And suddenly, I'm frozen.
And I'm just frozen in this futility.
It's a counteraction; the snow was too cold for the sky to handle, and even in the darkest time it rebels with its own glowing fire. It's the warmth we cannot feel, but maybe see.
I think of Halloween, October twilights and summer evenings with sunsets spanning across the horizon, the ocean the only cold. Snow doesn't exist there, while footprints in the sand are just polka dots on the canvas, shells and stones welcome stains. The lowest temperature is the highest it its polar opposite season.
We're living in the polar opposite season. Is there something about winter that's so depressing? Does the snow weigh us down, are we hailed upon by icy rocks that spare our skin but penetrate within? It could perhaps be.
I'm weighed down. The snow is cold, it's piled on, blizzard after blizzard. As soon as it starts to melt, it snows again. My toes are frozen in the ice below, and any movement to pull free is purely futile.
Isn't everything essentially futile?
There's only so much resistance I can put in. I can only keep pushing for so long. I'm only so strong.
I feel as though I'm falling back into sophomore year, sometimes.
I compare this all --- constantly, in my head --- to sophomore year.
I find the patterns in everything.
The patterns make everything predictable.
I try to make it predictable.
Maybe I'll be prepared?
Trail mix can only aid me so far.
It can't feed me for long.
This falling doesn't do anything, but I can't help it. I can feel my mind racing.
Everything's starting to feel real again. Almost.
It hadn't felt real for a while... dream sequence, if you will?
Living dream, living in a cloud. Behind a fog.
Life is a fog.
It's foggy, I'm blurry. The world's blurry.
I tried to tell myself that the blurriness would make it more beautiful, would make it hurt less.
...futile.
I know I've given up on my dreams. I can barely recall them, even participate in them. Dreams? What are those? I only recognize the nightmares, strangemares, the things of my slumber.
Something is always after me, something is always haunting me. Memories, people... I'm being chased in that world.
And yet, that is the true unreal, the only happiness. The fake unreality lasted for ages.
Reality hits me in bursts.
It cumulates, and then I've returned to that same old mentality I tried so hard to leave.
For the first time in ages I looked into the mirror and saw that Jordan.
That Jordan, sophomore year, everything so ugly and raw.
Raw and shaking, hurt and confused, hopeful for the most futile things.
Futile.
And then I question why? Perhaps this is the way it's supposed to be? Perhaps I caused this domino effect of why everything just isn't... right in the world? If I hadn't spoken to this person, if I hadn't blinked or breathed at this very moment in the past, would everything have been better?
Everything I've done has had some negative effect.
It has to have.
There is just way too much. Too many television channels, so many languages, all set in unison. Wars, terrorism, starvation, weather channel, sitcoms, dramas, movie marathons, "reality" TV.
I almost feel to pathetic to explain it all.
It just hits me, sometimes, how alone I really am. It's overwhelming, the sensation. This puzzle just isn't fitting. My future is so unsure, so improbable at this point. I only want something better, but I have no way to get there. I have no motivation to get there, because it's all so futile. I sometimes feel as though each laugh is a betrayal.
I need more.
Every time I feel as though I'm getting closer, it falls away. Every hope towards rekindling, change, and what I feel should just be, what should EXIST and breathe in my world, what should come alive... wasted hope.
I think it's wasted hope.
Fragmentation.
I don't know how to be happy.
I don't think I'm allowed to be happy. I am destined to fall back into all the patterns, it just keeps happening.
My life is one huge tessellation.
But everything just piles on all at once.
All that snow.
Every day, a different snow.
And suddenly, I'm frozen.
And I'm just frozen in this futility.