Truth is beauty, even at its most raw.
(1953 views) -
(recorded 9/13/08 @ 4:01:13 AM)
You say you never dream, but I know that you do. You just simply don't remember them. I wonder what visions and realities are tied up in your head at night; what your brain occupies itself with when your conscious isn't there to bother and bewilder. Maybe there you're happy.
I wake up from far too many dreams. Vivid, large, inescapable. I wake up into moments of aching existentialism, where I briefly worry that I'm exactly one heartbeat away from ceasing to be able to express myself, where a few neurons fail to do their job and it doesn't matter anymore. I let the helplessness wash over me, hope that it isn't the beginning of some schizophrenic hell and realize that I'm powerless to control or maintain any grip on "reality". I let things flow in a meta, macro sense because all I can control is an illusion anywayâ€”the small things, the things that bring me temporary joy.
I'm scratching a surface I have no place digging under. I know this but it makes me happy enough for now, so for now, here I sit, a spade in my hand, in the sand, waiting for the cave in. You'll make me dig just a bit deeper, deeper still and I'm not sure when it will happen.
I wonder if anyone else thinks of their life in terms of millimeters. There are brief flashes where the fact hits me: all it would take to die this instant is an errant muscle twitch, a terrible mistake down to a sense of scale too little to matter, in theory, but in practice, big enough to bring my life to a close. Would it even matter?
Sometimes I feel like I'm making a lot of ground. I feel as if there would be many mourners at my funeral and that they would actually genuinely miss me a bit. And sometimes, I feel like I would just slip into the murky depths; a cursory display of grief put on but no real impact and business as usual shortly thereafter. We only get one chance at building a legacy and I suppose it shouldn't be so important, but I want to matter. I want my reasoncount to outshine the others.
I think a lot of people try to craft their personalities. They play to their audience and they carefully meter and monitor their behavior and don't let slip the dogs of war in their own minds. Naturally, there are "time" and "place" bounds to when I'm at my most errant, but I really do believe I put on as consistent a front as I can. I allow myself to be myself and typically leave it unfiltered, certain exceptions notwithstanding. I can't imagine having to apply the cycles necessary to worry every second of my day what everyone else is thinking of me. I'd much rather guess and check, play it by ear, do my thing and see how people react. I'm still bound by a few things, but it's much more fun to be truly dynamic and reactive and suggestive and provocative and, occasionally, someone who makes everyone else laugh.
I knew pretty early on that there was something fundamentally flawed with you. It's a harsh accusation: we all have a slightly different worldview and we all do our own things. "Normal" is not a fair qualification. But the overwhelming consensus has been, for some time, and by a large majority of the souls you've touched, that there is something truly broken with you. It's fascinating. And I'm glad that you're doing alright. I'm impressed; you're at MIT, you got on top of a lot of your demons and beat them back into a corner and you function "just fine."
But I'm amazed at your revisionist history, the way you've shoved the past into a corner, never to be learned from, but to be instead ignored, placated so you don't have to face the harsh reality of your own self. It was too large a job for any one man and it was an unfair stack of cards. But the obtuse accusation that anyone would keep you hating yourself for their own selfish gain is simply ridiculous, and worse, even more self-centered than I previously thought you could be. You are your own little copernicus and it's fascinating, bewildering, terrifying and broken. I wonder if some phrase or lyrics could remind you of the many, many things I remember: many moments in time of happiness and value, and that it wasn't all dust and vitriol. In fact, it was hardly that at all.
I'm not even upset, really. I'm just carelessly surprised. Naturally when your core reality isn't in sync with, say, the rest of the world's, baseline, you have the upper hand: you can't be argued with and no one else can ever win. So I'll leave that be. But some day, you should actually look back, look deep inside and remember what else there was to it.
I'm going to sleep again. I'm jaded, but strangely relaxed. I'm not worried about things I can't change and I've had the ability to recognize a good deal of them. It's given me peace and allowed me to keep my focus on those that I can impact, however small that sphere may be.
Previous entry: It's Good Times.
|Back to disillusioned's journal :: Back to the journal index|
|<-- Log in to leave a note, or create an account, if you don't already have one|