time of the month

So you say you need time. Don't we all? It's very simple, really. You go and say something vague. People try to understand; they may or they may just pretend to. Not that it matters, of course. If you really wanted to be understood, you wouldn't put it so vaguely. Do you want to be understood? That's really not the point, is it? You're just trying to find a way to express yourself. Sure, if that makes you feel better, go right ahead. You know it does and that's really all that matters right now. You see, the thoughts you have are normal or, at least, you'd like to think so. That's fine too. Don't we all feel like we're lost sometimes? But that's when you find yourself. You find a way to be OK with what you are, who you are, where you are, and you find a way to move on. It's really just that simple.

You have the time now. Tell me what you're thinking. You feel like the world is too cruel. Where do you want to go? What do you want to do? You've always felt that you'll amount to something but you're not so sure anymore. Rather than fearing this ambiguity, why don't you embrace it? Take it a day at a time but never waste it. How long is an hour? 60 minutes, 3600 seconds, 10 well-rehearsed questions or just the one that you got stuck on, the time it takes to learn something new but only barely; what's your point? That maybe an hour isn't a very long time. If you take 15 minutes to drive somewhere and another 15 minutes back, that's half an hour which leaves the other half for something. You get 24 of those a day, a third of which is used for sleep, two thirds of which you waste doing nothing great. Perhaps it's time you reconsider how you use your time; that is, if you've ever considered it at all. Make a schedule? That's a cheap effort, man. Don't mock this question. You know what I mean and you know you're a mess. It's time to think about the things you want to do. Which leaves you with one last question. For now.

What will you do?

implode

It's that time again... That time... That time of the many intervals in my life where I suddenly forget that some questions deserve answers but that doesn't mean it's important; like the meaning to life which goes without question isn't as important as the life itself; because having that life satisfies that meaning, otherwise why would that life be had?

So, the million-dollar question: Remove yourself from all sensation, all the duties and responsibilities of day-to-day life... Now imagine you were a ball of pure light consisting only of those thoughts most important to you. What are those thoughts?

I mean, it's an easy enough question. You remove the distractions of sight, smell, taste, touch, whatever have you; you remove the need to eat and shit and interact with things, you focus on what's most important to you and voila, you have your answer; but what if what's left is a ball of pure darkness rather than a ball of pure light? No, not a ball of pure darkness, but rather, a ball of vacuum, surrounded by a vacuum, surrounded by more vacuum; where matter and anti-matter have combined to create a nothingness so profound, you cannot even call it a vacuum. What if all that's left in the centerpiece of your most important and valuable thoughts is nothingness? What then? What if you have nothing important or valuable in your own mind? What if you could not think of a single thing on this Earth that you would give your life for? What if you lost anything and everything, but wait, you realize you didn't even really give much of a fuck about all that crap anyway? What if you had nothing except distractions in your life? If you were a lost soul with nothing? If your life was empty in the beginning, empty now and may forever be empty?

I'm not afraid of dying. It would be stupid to fear such. After all, it's inevitable anyway. What does scare me a little bit is living this life and losing it with nary a thought in my head for which I held dear...

for that which is small and quite nothing

There is a portion of my mind that may forever be alone, that which is not pleasant but is necessary... Why is it necessary? I don't really know. Why do I deem it necessary? Sometimes, I question myself and realize I don't make any sense. It should be right, then, to discard of such stupid ideas, should it not? So I do and I correct myself.

There is a portion of my mind that is alone right now in its little corner that whispers evil things; it is not pleasant nor necessary but it persists like a parasite, unwilling to go away just because I tell it to, rather preferring to taunt me for being weak and small and meaningless and nothing. There is a struggle for me to grasp at this thing, for I understand that I feel that way, and I have an idea of why, but I can't really catch it. It is a thought, floating in my head, floating and fleeting, that everytime I try to catch it, it flows through my metaphorical fingers. The idea that one can be so small, that life can be so cheap, the idea that the cogs of this civilization run on no matter how utterly fucked up any single individual is, that the system itself permits this and churns out losers every single day... is baffling and beyond my comprehension. Is it really important at all? Maybe not; but when you imagine burning a fire in an enclosed room to which end seems quite self-important that you should be worth a ceremony that bears the last honor (or otherwise) that a person may or may not deservedly receive, you kinda have to think about why you shouldn't.

So, there is nothing to say that just because you tried that you will find the answer. I'm sure a million people before me have tried to figure out just what it is that makes any single life more or less valuable than the rest, finding answers that are not really answers, finding reasons that are not really reasons, finding truths that are not actually truths... And a million people will follow after me and, possibly, tens of billions more after me if this pathetic existence is able to sustain itself before blowing itself out like the metaphorical candle. So yes, I did not find the answer, and yes, I may be quite dense, and yes, I may have something wrong right up there in the brains; which begs the question: What now?

I don't know.

that which is not known

I look at your name and freeze; that you don't know it makes no difference, I freeze all the same. In this frame in my life where nothing moves and everything is a malleable but constant force, where I have control over anything and everything but don't quite need it, where in my own little way, I am the god; you would think that the inherent peace in this place would be more far-reaching than you. Apparently not, though, because that image of your name is burned deep into my mind as my fingers stop moving; knowing that you don't know makes it easier to manage, but not by much; or it really doesn't and I'm fooling myself, that perhaps it's not easier but harder, but for the lack of available data processing in my head, that cannot hit me in the way that it should. And perhaps it's the day where I should choose to tell you or let it go, but even that I cannot muster in myself, because every time I see your name, it elicits the same response, that I cannot do either.

What, then, is it about you that even your name gets to me, that which is awesome and scary at the same time, which makes me feel alive, but not in a good way, because to die, you must know that you once had life, for that which you do not have cannot be taken away, even if it is just thought because not every man knows that he is alive and not every man thereafter knows that he has died; and that to the extent of that, there exists a part of me that wants to say something but cannot because it makes no sense, and while everything has a positive intention, I cannot quite find that in the moment of telling you, so I don't, but really, why, then, do I keep thinking about it, finding the excuses that are not there, and ultimately just being a complete and utter fuckup?

Perhaps, today, I will make my choice and stick to it, because I can hold this moment for so much longer - the meaning of which takes precedence way more than it should, that this hurt should be my pleasure, that hope is there though ever in the slightest that I should hold onto it dearly - but it's really not worth it and I know that, because for as long as I am an idiot trapped in my own trap, stuck in my own warped mind that has failed to see that it has far passed its boundaries that it has no idea were ever there, that it will continue to rot away to a state that it can live within rather than simultaneously combusting to reveal a new thing not entirely familiar to me.

for that which has no rewind

I wish I knew how to make things work. It seems, instead, like everything I go into, I really have no control over. If I could let it go, I would, but right now, I'm just too far in it to forget it. So I'm thinking that if I just do one stupid thing... That's excusable, right? It'll only be the one... Who am I kidding? Of course it's not excusable... That's the only one stupid thing I need to do to crash and burn. So, really, what do I do instead? Mope around until this feeling goes away? God knows that won't take long. But is that really the point? Is it really the point that if it'll go away fast that it's OK to just... let it go? I rarely wonder if I'm making the right choice. It's usually that I just pick one and run right at it until the wall breaks. Well, rarely; I'm beginning to think that this may be one of those choices I might regret for a long long time. Especially if I don't say anything. If I do, at least I know. But then again, is that knowledge really worth breaking a good bond? I don't know, so either way, I may regret after all.

So what now? I've been told, "At the end of the day, whatever you do, it's gonna be stupid anyway." And sure, that's true, but that really doesn't help me. Between two stupid things to do; who do I want to hurt more? Us, me or her?

as to the big things that look little, because there was the titanic, and there were the lives on it

There is a heaviness which I cannot explain, an anchor in my face that drags me against the earth, that makes me feel pathetic and weak and stupid and slow, nothing that I enjoy but something I must endure, because if that's all I can take, then what of life and the years ahead?

There is a path somewhere, in fact, everywhere, paths in front of me, paths all around, they really lead to the same place, but the point is that they're different paths, with different experiences and different everythings. They make me think about the choices I make and the stupidity inherent, they make me wonder and ponder and deliberate and think, but really, what do those paths matter if not for the little things in life you hold dear? Because if everything is constant and nothing is assumed, there would be great balance in the world, but what of such a boring place would you like? So, to choose something that matters to you, is it important? Because, really,  what I want right now is to be able to enjoy the things that I think are important, because feeling alive isn't about exhiliration, it isn't about money and infinite time, it isn't about finding the meaning in life, it's about putting meaning into your meaningless life.

So why is it that I question? That right now is here makes the past so much less important, but the past is really what defines you so, after all, it's important, but not in a way that should bother you. And so what if you didn't know? To actually know, that's gold, but sometimes, it doesn't matter as much as you think it does and that, my friend, is really what you should place in your mind.

crossroads with a reset button = convenient

Just right then, I had an epiphany. All my human instincts told me to blow off some steam but really, that's not what I wanted at all. A friend, which I just recently thought of as close, told me, "It's OK to be alone," and I totally agree with that. Then again, how true is a fact that you have to keep reminding yourself? As Kelly Clarkson said, "Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone." Do I agree? Do i disagree? Let's just put it this way: A person has as much control over his emotions as he can hold constant in his mind. If you're alone and you tell yourself, "I'm not lonely," truely and surely, you will not feel alone. It's tried and tested, a personal experience and belief; although, I have to concur that not all minds work alike; so just think about it for a second, "Are you as lonely as you feel or as lonely as you allow your mind to think?" If you have to keep reminding yourself, consciously, that you are not lonely, are you really not lonely? It's thoughts like these that make me doubt myself, but stimulating my own mind has always been fun, especially when the stimulation is of a personal interest.

Perhaps... I don't mind thinking about it, but questions that don't really have an answer are scary. They are few and far between, surely, but they're always scary; and why shouldn't they be? A diver looks into chasms of water, so deep and dark that they cannot see anything but blackness beneath them, that some even go into panic. Do you blame them? The unknown is scary. Granted, you have to want to know the answer enough. You have to imagine the possibilities and play them out in your mind, conjure the rainbows and butterflies but also the blackholes and the infinite negative possibilities. Maybe it isn't scary for everyone, but they scare me so there.

So, really, what is the point I'm trying to make? On the one hand, I want to do something but on the other... I really don't. Is that the point? Kind of but not really. The point is, I am lonely, and it's OK. Shouldn't it be? If it should, why do I misdirect my emotions to feel better? Why do I tell myself I'm not lonely when I am instead of embracing it as just what I am? At this point, I'm just contradicting myself, saying things I only half mean. Crossroads; I'll go with one option and see how that goes.