Mind 11.13.14
It was at a young age that I began to question what life was for. When caught up in so much reason it is hard to experience life in its most simple form. In the inhale and exhale of your breath, the rise and fall of your chest; it is all lost in a mind that cannot be silenced. Oh, how I wish for a silent mind, to be a vessel accepting all that arises in action, not in thought.
It seems that this year especially, my mind has taken over. I have merely become a carrier of an organism that I fight to silence, or to release. I wander through my days with a hopelessness of ever coming to an answer of why I am here. And I accept that this answer does not exist, nor is the turmoil I experience in struggling to attain it real. But I continue to play this game as if it its completion will result in what I hope to be is real life; or maybe I will be numbed forever.
The numbness is what scares me the most. I experience frustration in being lost, but no real pain, as well as no real joy. I accept that no matter what option I choose, I will be there, present, unsatisfied, and completely aware that there is no other way than this. This will not hurt me, for my preemptive recognition warned me, all I will feel is a distant presence from where I stand. A longing for another fate, but acceptance that it is not possible.
I realize that my head space is cluttered in a way now, that it hasn’t been before. I am capable of pushing myself forward to do many things, things that others fear, yet when it comes down to my personal wants, I am petrified. I don’t know what to pursue in this space. This space of constant firing of thoughts; what is it even that I fear? That I will have to start over again. That I will run around, eyes closed, finding temporary sanctuaries that I learn to despise and leave blindly to another. I am young they say, but I think the thoughts of a person on their death bed. Regretting that they never did what they wanted, they never lived life as they knew it could be lived. What life do I want? How do I escape the suffocating stagnation that I brood in? Are there words to relinquish a passion in my soul, are their images, are there acts?