i'm not going to think about what i have to do before i can go home again, because i'll have to cry in a corner, and the only corner with nothing in it is obtuse, not a right angle at all, because my dorm is shaped weird.
went to aunt's family in north carolina for thanksgiving. everything is depressing. unhappy marriages, people dying slowly...not fun. i wondered what it would be like when i get to my parent's age (assuming i live that long, of course), and people my age suddenly die in the night, or discover that they have a tumor and only have three more months. hell, i wonder what it'll be like when my parents die. i think about giving speeches at their funerals, standing up there next to an open (closed?) coffin, and knowing that they're gone.
i'd like to just scream and get it over with, but one must observe the formalities with these things. life must be lived, even if i don't think there's a purpose. we're all the centers of our individual worlds, after all.
i sat and thought about it for a while. what if the entire purpose of my life is to bump into someone on the street, causing them to spill their coffee? and they go into the nearest restaurant to see if they can rinse the coffee out of their jacket, and meet someone else, and so on, and so forth. what would it be like to be one of those other people in groundhog day, the ones who relive the same day over and over, hundreds of times, without even knowing it? would they sense on some level that there was something not quite right with their world, something too deep down to even recognize or put a name to?
that's the great thing about blogs. i just sit down to type, with no definite subject in mind, and whatever comes out onto the screen, i can take it anywhere. i can delete this sentence, and you would never know that i had written it. the sad thing is, i'll never type everything i want to on here because, as everyone knows, there are some things you don't talk about to anybody. ever. but i can still wonder. is it better, in the long run, to trade innocence for knowledge. for, of course, once you know, you can't go back. there are some paths that you choose to take, and once you take them, there is no going back. it's futile to attempt to imagine what would've happened if you'd gone the other way, done something different, taken the blue pill instead of the red. what would be the point? you can't imagine what it would be like, not to know what you know now, because that knowledge, however small, has altered your perceptions radically.
do i have control over my own life? i have no idea. it would be easier to say that i didn't, place my faith (nonexistant, by the way) and trust in some higher power, because my life is pretty chaotic and fucked up right now. i'd really rather not take credit for it, at this point. however, i'm pretty sure i made all my decisions. does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker? do you choose to buy into the story, the fairy tale? in the end, does it really matter how many people, how much they mattered to you? you made your own choices, and that's the end of it. so yeah, free will, not destiny. fate? fate is for treacly romantic comedies and greeting-card companies. bleed to death in the bathtub if you want to, swirling red clouds forming from your wrists and ankles. it's all you. the suicide rate triples at christmas. happy fucking holidays. that's the best celebration of the baby jesus' birth i've seen yet. police reports and statistics, here we come. can circumstances manipulate you into doing anything? does anyone really have a choice? "and then Fate slipped the lead into the boxing glove." believe something, believe nothing. 42. who the fuck cares? have fun while you're living, for you're a long time dead. try to imagine a different path of your life, myriad possibilities of alternate universes spreading on forever and ever. i'm not really trying to make sense here, it's more of a feeling. stream-of-consciousness, if you will. i'll type whatever i damn well feel like, without editing or altering any of it. putting words to a feeling. the english language can be unwieldy sometimes. more than sometimes. as somebody said, "I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand and the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep, and there are no words for that." do you ever worry that you will become that which you despise? and no, i don't mean emo. genuineness is a virtue. originality. not to be human wallpaper, to stand in a crowd and throw your head back and scream. because you can. have the strength to face down whatever insults you may receive, to not care what is said against you and about you, because you are the only one who knows the whole truth about you. or maybe not. but knowing your own mind would certainly help. just don't mug yourself.
answers to questions? why? and all the others. i could just delete this whole thing, twenty minutes of my life, thinking about nothing, or about too much, depending on how you look at it. but it's been too long since a lot of things, and crying is only one of them. for what matters my everything to you? less than nothing. just like i don't really care about your life. significance. bolt from the blue, obviousness. life will always go on, whether you want it to or not, until it doesn't. this one's mine, for me. the best things are the ones you don't plan, or even really think about. beat your fists against the glass, but if you break through, is there another, larger box waiting for you outside? trapped forever, a series of cages for you consciousness. but are you conscious of it, and would it matter either way?
1 Comments:
Hey now, you are supposed to be ditzy! What are you doing thinking stuff like this? But, I worry about such things as well. Anyways, cheer up.
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Anonymous, at 3:59 PM
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