(no subject)
It occurs to me that I'm not happy. I'm not depressed or anything like that, but I'm not happy with my life. I don't like the societal expectations that are placed on me. I don't want to finish school, get a job, work until I'm 65 or 70, and then hope that I have enough life left to enjoy a decade or so of pursuing passion. I am not satisfied with the prospect of pursuing "success" and wealth, when no matter how well I do I'll still die and have none of it. I don't want to work to be rich and then fear the loss of wealth to the point that I'll do anything to preserve it. I don't like these bourgeois trappings. Yes, it is preferable to own a house than to rent one, or to be homeless. But the feeling of being tied down, of having no options...no, I don't like that. We spend our time and effort and life pursuing these physical satisfactions and lose our freedom in the process. I cannot accept that.
I say that I have no skills, that I'm not good at anything, but what have I tried to do? I can't draw or paint or sing, but have I tried to tool leather or grow a crop? Have I tried blacksmithing or construction? What if my greatest skill is in weaving or spinning pottery? How will I ever know, when all I do is work to survive? When will I ever have a chance to find my passion and pursue it?
Something about this isn't right. We aren't meant to live in boxes and trudge to other boxes to earn enough to afford our living boxes. We aren't supposed to spend our lives staring at a computer or television. We aren't supposed to consider that living. I want my passion, I want beauty. I want to enjoy my life and die knowing that I lived by my rules, for myself, and not for what is expected of me.
I haven't figured out how to do that yet...but I will. This ache in my chest, this hope, they are my motivation. This beautiful belief that it can be achieved and that I will be free. My north star.
I say that I have no skills, that I'm not good at anything, but what have I tried to do? I can't draw or paint or sing, but have I tried to tool leather or grow a crop? Have I tried blacksmithing or construction? What if my greatest skill is in weaving or spinning pottery? How will I ever know, when all I do is work to survive? When will I ever have a chance to find my passion and pursue it?
Something about this isn't right. We aren't meant to live in boxes and trudge to other boxes to earn enough to afford our living boxes. We aren't supposed to spend our lives staring at a computer or television. We aren't supposed to consider that living. I want my passion, I want beauty. I want to enjoy my life and die knowing that I lived by my rules, for myself, and not for what is expected of me.
I haven't figured out how to do that yet...but I will. This ache in my chest, this hope, they are my motivation. This beautiful belief that it can be achieved and that I will be free. My north star.