There are two different people inhabiting this body. I call one 'the good one' and the other, 'the bad one.' They somehow function in their cohabitation. Yet at the same time they are the cause of a great deal of friction that usually spills out into reality. When two people live together long enough, they can become similar in many ways. Such as the way they behave. I attribute this form of cohesion to the people living inside of me. It is never clear which one is motivating me at any time because of this. Sometimes they wear masks to protect themselves from my controlling consciousness that weighs rationale, that one can pass off as the other. Typically it is 'the bad one' pretending to be 'the good one.' There is a power struggle going on inside me. 'The bad one' always disguises his intentions with emotional reaction. This causes my emotions to drive my decisions-making, because 'the good one' is happy to be a passenger along for the ride. I'm looking for closure. I want to be proud of my actions, completely. Not selectively.
As I was driving home from the library I saw a high school-aged kid kicking around leaves and looking intently at the ground. I thought this was strange at first, until I realized he was looking for something. He looked so confused. Instantly I felt a comraderie with him because of that look I had seen on his face. If only he had been angry and desperatethat those things could show in such a brief moment of passingI might have felt like we really were connected.
All of this effort I put into writing branches off from the fact that I am a malcontent, unsatisfied with the way I am. That is to say the person I have become. Looking at things to try and focus in on their meaning is my way of finding a point in it all. Come clarity or come combustion, I need this kind of vested interest in the things around me to make things feel real to me. I don't trust my senses or my intuitions to be completely truthful with me, as my understanding of things fails me completely at times. This is not the right way to do it, to live. When I touch things they feel somehow mitigated. It is like the sensation I receive is significantly weaker than what is intended. Every sense seems to be slightly muted. My every urge is to look to the past for explanation and clues as to how I can proceed. But the rational man realizes that there is no one to help me with this and so I must figure out how to burn this bridge and let it fall to the ground as I pass over it. Only then can I effectively move on toward the future. A better future. It is not necessary to firmly grip something just to know that it is real, that it exists. You just have to have touched it at one time. By letting go of my past in a way that I can never touch it again, will allow me to never get caught up in it again.
The more writing and talking I do the more I become aware of the inherent pitfalls of it. Communication is divided into two parts: what is intended to be undersrood and what is, in reality, understood. Words have concise definitions, but we each have our own version of that meaning. Translation from intent to intuition ranges from using a dictionary to the more common association of an inferred meaning learned from exposures to the context. When it comes to such intimate ideas as needs and wantssuch central ideas to our very existenceit becomes very ambiguous to see what we really understand words to mean. Which brings me to my next line of thought: what I want and what I need. I spend a large amount of time interchanging what I want and what I need. It's as if there were no distinguishable difference. But then why are there two words?
To want is for me, to be left feeling empty-handed. Whether your intimacies go unmet, or they are not yet formed into concise words, they are unambiguously a grasp for what we desire. Our culture defines our wants. Our psychology defines our wants. Our character defines our wants. We define what wanting is. Yet we don't, in a way. We just personalize it. We may simply want love, or it could go deeper than that and extend to an actual necessity. It seems to depend entirely upon the context. Necessity seems more concise, however. To need something is as simple as disseminating importance. Something to drink? How about a water? Well, I like beer a lot more...
The point is that some of us spend a lot of time thinking we need things that really, we just want. It's hard to fully comprehend but I understand that this applies to me, too. Need is really a simple thing. It just gets misused. I want to figure myself out and come to terms with it. Do I need to? Do I really have an obligation to unravel why I am unhappy? Or do I need to just come to terms with it and accept it, foregoing the part where I figure out why I am the way I am? How. Do. I. Do. That?
If anything consumes a man so completely that it becomes his only focus, then he is already lost.
My inherit flaw: to want to convey myself unimpaired. To lay myself out as some sort of brief description, a human abstract, that I may always be conscious. But in doing so my every reference toward unfulfilled desires chips away at my integrity, for not having done what I set out to do. For having chosen an obviously impossible task I will be rewarded with the responsibility for having destroyed my own character. This is the story of the suicide of the notion of self. Everyone talks. Who, really does what they say?
As I was driving home from the library I saw a high school-aged kid kicking around leaves and looking intently at the ground. I thought this was strange at first, until I realized he was looking for something. He looked so confused. Instantly I felt a comraderie with him because of that look I had seen on his face. If only he had been angry and desperatethat those things could show in such a brief moment of passingI might have felt like we really were connected.
All of this effort I put into writing branches off from the fact that I am a malcontent, unsatisfied with the way I am. That is to say the person I have become. Looking at things to try and focus in on their meaning is my way of finding a point in it all. Come clarity or come combustion, I need this kind of vested interest in the things around me to make things feel real to me. I don't trust my senses or my intuitions to be completely truthful with me, as my understanding of things fails me completely at times. This is not the right way to do it, to live. When I touch things they feel somehow mitigated. It is like the sensation I receive is significantly weaker than what is intended. Every sense seems to be slightly muted. My every urge is to look to the past for explanation and clues as to how I can proceed. But the rational man realizes that there is no one to help me with this and so I must figure out how to burn this bridge and let it fall to the ground as I pass over it. Only then can I effectively move on toward the future. A better future. It is not necessary to firmly grip something just to know that it is real, that it exists. You just have to have touched it at one time. By letting go of my past in a way that I can never touch it again, will allow me to never get caught up in it again.
The more writing and talking I do the more I become aware of the inherent pitfalls of it. Communication is divided into two parts: what is intended to be undersrood and what is, in reality, understood. Words have concise definitions, but we each have our own version of that meaning. Translation from intent to intuition ranges from using a dictionary to the more common association of an inferred meaning learned from exposures to the context. When it comes to such intimate ideas as needs and wantssuch central ideas to our very existenceit becomes very ambiguous to see what we really understand words to mean. Which brings me to my next line of thought: what I want and what I need. I spend a large amount of time interchanging what I want and what I need. It's as if there were no distinguishable difference. But then why are there two words?
To want is for me, to be left feeling empty-handed. Whether your intimacies go unmet, or they are not yet formed into concise words, they are unambiguously a grasp for what we desire. Our culture defines our wants. Our psychology defines our wants. Our character defines our wants. We define what wanting is. Yet we don't, in a way. We just personalize it. We may simply want love, or it could go deeper than that and extend to an actual necessity. It seems to depend entirely upon the context. Necessity seems more concise, however. To need something is as simple as disseminating importance. Something to drink? How about a water? Well, I like beer a lot more...
The point is that some of us spend a lot of time thinking we need things that really, we just want. It's hard to fully comprehend but I understand that this applies to me, too. Need is really a simple thing. It just gets misused. I want to figure myself out and come to terms with it. Do I need to? Do I really have an obligation to unravel why I am unhappy? Or do I need to just come to terms with it and accept it, foregoing the part where I figure out why I am the way I am? How. Do. I. Do. That?
If anything consumes a man so completely that it becomes his only focus, then he is already lost.
My inherit flaw: to want to convey myself unimpaired. To lay myself out as some sort of brief description, a human abstract, that I may always be conscious. But in doing so my every reference toward unfulfilled desires chips away at my integrity, for not having done what I set out to do. For having chosen an obviously impossible task I will be rewarded with the responsibility for having destroyed my own character. This is the story of the suicide of the notion of self. Everyone talks. Who, really does what they say?