(no subject)
What has been the point of my life up until now: the moment I realize my purpose. Every single experience just a lesson to teach me something. Now I've gathered every lesson. I've learned all there is to know at the ripe age of 20. That is to say all human beings are completely selfish, at least the ones that don't know you. Of course this is all concerning human affairs, specifically relationships.
I don't mean relationships in the strict sense of male/female relationships. I mean the building of understanding between two people. The only people that have been able to handle my reality are people that don't have a stake in my outcome. When I open myself to a women I love, she runs in fear. When I open myself up to a sibling, I'm an alien. When I open myself up to my Father, I'm going through a phase. Is my reality so surreal? I never thought the truth could be so horrible, but I guess I have to rethink my philosophy.
We usually enjoy phrases such as "everything will turn out okay", typically because they promise us something we do often experience. Happiness, contentment, joy, purpose. All of these things we love so dearly. Without them, we tend to question our very own existence. More often then not, "ending it all" becomes the favorite phrase once all things are considered.
"Everything will turn out okay" means this: Things tend to go up and go down; they're never as good as they seem or as bad as they seem. I can honestly say once you've come to the time in you're life that I'm at, you'll realize the yearnings of the human soul still cry out for you to change what you're doing, but your knowledge and past experience tell you to knock it off. Life is pointless and you're all going to die lonely. Well not all of us. Only the chosen ones will die lonely. I seem to be the only person I know that reaps what others sow. I try and sow seeds of understanding, communication, love, forgiveness. I reap solitude, resentment, regret, despair, sorrow.
God, if you exist, please explain my predicament. I don't understand. If a man--yes a man--loves with all his heart, cries from the bottom of his soul, screams with the most full joy, how can he lose? How have I lost? Is my reward simply understanding the truth? That there is no ultimate reward that we all receive? That not everyone experiences the "everything will turn out okay" cliche?
If this be my point for existing God, then I would also like to ask why you thought I was capable of handling such a truth. I'm not one of your tempered prophets. I'm a weak man. Weak to the point of humor. I cry routinely every night, and every morning I seek for a purpose to leave my bed.
Oh no, this isn't a phase. This has been a philosophy instilled in me. The project began about 3 years ago. Once I realized how undesirable I was, I simply accepted that I shall not taste love on my lips ever again. Love has become a word used in novels and films, not a casual experience for me. Love is similar to 1840's gold: museum shit. Don't touch. Can't touch. The glass is too thick and theres also alarms that are set to go off if you even try to experience it's fullness.
Want to know one of my alarms? It's called incompatibility. As soon as I embrace a crush. A love, lets say. I suddenly realize all of the things I used to ignore, are now banging at my door asking why I'm so incompatible with them. I guess I'm not such an exciting guy. I guess I just never liked those things. I guess I guess I guess. I guess I'm Ryan Siekert and he just guesses. He has no firm hold on this or that. He simply exists in between the white and yellow of the egg. An indefiniteness. A place where you have no real interests and no real interesting characteristics. You just are. You just exist for the soul purpose of occupying someone else's life with passing time.
This is what I've learned at the ripe age of 20. Now I have to look forward to years and years of being the corner piece in an already finished puzzle. Novelty, yes, but sorry. Very sorry.
I don't mean relationships in the strict sense of male/female relationships. I mean the building of understanding between two people. The only people that have been able to handle my reality are people that don't have a stake in my outcome. When I open myself to a women I love, she runs in fear. When I open myself up to a sibling, I'm an alien. When I open myself up to my Father, I'm going through a phase. Is my reality so surreal? I never thought the truth could be so horrible, but I guess I have to rethink my philosophy.
We usually enjoy phrases such as "everything will turn out okay", typically because they promise us something we do often experience. Happiness, contentment, joy, purpose. All of these things we love so dearly. Without them, we tend to question our very own existence. More often then not, "ending it all" becomes the favorite phrase once all things are considered.
"Everything will turn out okay" means this: Things tend to go up and go down; they're never as good as they seem or as bad as they seem. I can honestly say once you've come to the time in you're life that I'm at, you'll realize the yearnings of the human soul still cry out for you to change what you're doing, but your knowledge and past experience tell you to knock it off. Life is pointless and you're all going to die lonely. Well not all of us. Only the chosen ones will die lonely. I seem to be the only person I know that reaps what others sow. I try and sow seeds of understanding, communication, love, forgiveness. I reap solitude, resentment, regret, despair, sorrow.
God, if you exist, please explain my predicament. I don't understand. If a man--yes a man--loves with all his heart, cries from the bottom of his soul, screams with the most full joy, how can he lose? How have I lost? Is my reward simply understanding the truth? That there is no ultimate reward that we all receive? That not everyone experiences the "everything will turn out okay" cliche?
If this be my point for existing God, then I would also like to ask why you thought I was capable of handling such a truth. I'm not one of your tempered prophets. I'm a weak man. Weak to the point of humor. I cry routinely every night, and every morning I seek for a purpose to leave my bed.
Oh no, this isn't a phase. This has been a philosophy instilled in me. The project began about 3 years ago. Once I realized how undesirable I was, I simply accepted that I shall not taste love on my lips ever again. Love has become a word used in novels and films, not a casual experience for me. Love is similar to 1840's gold: museum shit. Don't touch. Can't touch. The glass is too thick and theres also alarms that are set to go off if you even try to experience it's fullness.
Want to know one of my alarms? It's called incompatibility. As soon as I embrace a crush. A love, lets say. I suddenly realize all of the things I used to ignore, are now banging at my door asking why I'm so incompatible with them. I guess I'm not such an exciting guy. I guess I just never liked those things. I guess I guess I guess. I guess I'm Ryan Siekert and he just guesses. He has no firm hold on this or that. He simply exists in between the white and yellow of the egg. An indefiniteness. A place where you have no real interests and no real interesting characteristics. You just are. You just exist for the soul purpose of occupying someone else's life with passing time.
This is what I've learned at the ripe age of 20. Now I have to look forward to years and years of being the corner piece in an already finished puzzle. Novelty, yes, but sorry. Very sorry.