Everything weighs on me, like adamantium rain drops. Everything is like a sword, cutting deep.
Throughout the day I am beset by things. Things happen to me and I cannot let them go. Each one of the effects me, each one of the affects me. I cannot stand it because I cannot stop them from happening. They are neither one nor many things, they are something else. It is like a wave coming over me, crashing onto me, and the second I manage to breathe, another one comes. Like splinters poking my hand whenever I cautiously reach it out, like a leper reaching out to his high school friends that barely recognize him.
The world is harsh, the world is biting. I am bitten. I have been bitten although I cannot be sure that I was not bit yesterday, like there was not some venom placed inside of me when I was born. Philosophers call it “Being”, or that which cannot be undone. That which is. That thing which you cannot just brush away, that thing, that, if all things were gone that it is the thing that would still be there, that would have to be there, because, how would you know that everything is gone unless it was all once there? What is nothingness but what happened before?
And what is what happened before? Do you remember yesterday? What about the day before yesterday? Do you remember everything that happened? What are dreams? If you only remember certain parts of the dream then can you still say,”I remember what I dreamt about”? Can you say that you remember the past when you only remember certain parts? And what of those parts that you misremember? Do you just yourself get a pass for that, do you just get a gimme, saying to yourself that “nobody remembers everything”? If nobody remembers everything and yet you remember something but for everything that there is the possibility that you are wrong, then what are you left with? Half memories? Ripped pages that you pick up off the floor, never realizing that you were never looking for anything ripped in the first place, you were just looking for your pen under all of the trash and only after realizing that those pages were the ones that you ripped, in frustration many years ago, that it was only after you realized this that you cared? But if you only care about them now, did you really ever care?
Life gnaws at you, life bites you, it has bitten me. Look at these words, look at everything I am writing. Do I sound like somebody that hasn’t been bitten? I am like my on cliche vampire novel, I myself as the loathsome vampire, misunderstood.
Try to realize your life, try to realize why you do things and see if you do not go insane, or just grow bored altogether and just go back to what you were doing before. It is interesting though to think about the past. About what was yesterday. If what you did yesterday matters, then shouldn’t you place it into your mind? Then is not everything in this way, everything as itself worth thinking about? Should not then you just think and think and think all day, trying to remember the important things?
I don’t believe that.
I don’t believe that that is how you should live your life. If you are stuck on the past, on your own history then you will never be able to put your eyes on the future. “Keep one eye on the past and one on the future” leaves none for the present. “Keep one eye on the present and one on the past” leaves none for the future.
The question, “what are we doing here”, is important, but I believe that we ask this question everyday, and that this is the motive for most of our actions, if not all of them. Let me tell you, that, while this may lead to a tumultuous life, that, I believe that there is none lived better. Be the future, become who you have always wanted to be. It takes courage, and people will hate you. Society most of all. People will come and question you, your parents will threaten you, your friends might get new jobs and get married. Everything that you love will fall. But you will have you. Life is your decision, you can choose to live it under the threat of “the mistake” or you can choose to live it knowing that for every mistake that it leads to the possibility of greater victory.
It is not easy. It is painful. You will become an outcast, and your own consciousness will eventually turn against you. “Other people” will start to make more sense, your urge to become someone “normal” will become greater by the day, but that is only because you are becoming more you. You are becoming more individual. The individual knows it is so when it sees itself in itself, for this is because its own reflection, that of disgust, is seen off of everyone that it meets. And that look of disgust is one of secret envy, because everyone wishes to become more themselves, more individual, it is just that they have not the courage, so they take it out on you. Disgust is freedom.