I can't quite see or feel what my future may hold. I know this may sound like a normal thought to most, but for me, it reverberates in my head as sound waves in a desolate valley. Or better yet, as the sounds of ocean waves crashing trapped in immortality within a sea shell. It's as though all emotions of every possible future have billowed up into an unnatural cluster of anxiety in my present.
As my drive into knowledge continues, I find myself pulling out and forcing myself into other works, from the insane to the completely useless. I cannot, for the life of me, allow myself to learn to absolution, rather I must always have myself on the fence between knowledge and creativity, as though my imagination is intentionally preventing knowledge from metastasizing. Though I crave to know the effects a shadow universe has on our present one, I refuse to accept anything as truth anymore. There is no truth, no absolution. Existence is existence, without meaning or purpose, that, at least, I have accepted long ago. Yet now, something within me refuses to accept anything else I encounter, as though my life is still the euphoria of a dream. Maybe that's why I don't dream, because I still am.
Perhaps its the presence of a possibly excellent future, one rich with happiness. No, not happiness, content. Content, knowledge, and growth. One full of a constant chase for the enhancement of my own being. With more education, and stable relationship, well as stable as a personality and history of one such as me can achieve. Maybe it is the presence of this near perfection of life, that drives me to reject it. Almost as though I will not ALLOW myself to obtain what I seek. Am I my own saboteur? I can't be, that seems too much, too distant from myself. Beyond even the slightest existence of reason.
Did you know you can remove a turtle's heart from his body and watch it beat for several hours on it's own?
Could it be fear? Am I secretly afraid of success? No, more likely than not, probably afraid of loss, and the more I obtain, the more I can lose. Not have taken from me, I don't really have that fear. I must, then, just be afraid of failing. Afraid of fucking everything up, but less afraid that I will do it and more convinced that I will.
I feel the detachment gaining it's hold over my emotions more and more each day. I can no longer recognize the detachment from the world I have always felt from the detachment from the life I now live. Everyday is becoming a more difficult challenge to interact, to laugh with others. As though my mind finds my body necessary for nothing more than sustenance. Even communication with my beloved family is becoming increasingly forced. I might as well be making appointments to call them on my Where's Waldo calender.
Has anyone ever noticed how disturbed Waldo's world is? Where ever he goes, there is nothing but mass mayhem, a complete lack of stability and an abundance shattered reality. Everybody wants to see where he is, but nobody wants to go there themselves. No wonder he's in a different place each month, he cannot find any location of normalcy. Lost in a sea of distortion. Literally, this month he is in the ocean.
A fruit fly can survive and act almost normal with it's head removed.
You have to find yourself wondering, on occasion, what life would be like in ignorance? When you see certain kinds of people on the streets or in shopping centers, and you can just tell they are the kind of people who don't read into anything. The world is exactly as it appears around them. Nothing more. Life is just life, and it exists just to enjoy, or something along those lines. Do you ever feel, for a moment at least, jealous of them, of their blissful obliviousness? Do you find yourself curious about what their personal life consists of? Are they this way all the time, or do they have a cloak powerful enough to camouflage any trace of doubt or lingering concern? Could I use that cloak on myself?
Yet, still I find myself in Afghanistan, in a place where I feel a sort of connection with people. A strange one though, my best friend is a German soldier, Kris, who has seen his fair share. After him comes the unit I support, the combat soldiers who go on missions on a nearly daily basis. I find myself constantly trying to understand their emotions about everything they are experiencing, desperately searching for links to my own feeling on war, on the chain of command, on home. The guys I work with, I have given up long ago on believing I will ever find a connection with them.
Elroy speaks constantly of Hawaii, of the calm he feels there, the freedom of concern that "main landers" seem to lack. Seems unreal. I must visit this place to confirm it's affects for myself.
For now, it's just me and my camera, doing my best to catch glimpses of what reminds me of what my life once was, when it had a solid purpose, a motivation. No, that's not entirely accurate, the purpose then I still hold now, to keep those near me alive. And destroy any who threaten. I guess when the threat was constant, it was easy to focus on the purpose.
My camera, and this little guy.
As my drive into knowledge continues, I find myself pulling out and forcing myself into other works, from the insane to the completely useless. I cannot, for the life of me, allow myself to learn to absolution, rather I must always have myself on the fence between knowledge and creativity, as though my imagination is intentionally preventing knowledge from metastasizing. Though I crave to know the effects a shadow universe has on our present one, I refuse to accept anything as truth anymore. There is no truth, no absolution. Existence is existence, without meaning or purpose, that, at least, I have accepted long ago. Yet now, something within me refuses to accept anything else I encounter, as though my life is still the euphoria of a dream. Maybe that's why I don't dream, because I still am.
Perhaps its the presence of a possibly excellent future, one rich with happiness. No, not happiness, content. Content, knowledge, and growth. One full of a constant chase for the enhancement of my own being. With more education, and stable relationship, well as stable as a personality and history of one such as me can achieve. Maybe it is the presence of this near perfection of life, that drives me to reject it. Almost as though I will not ALLOW myself to obtain what I seek. Am I my own saboteur? I can't be, that seems too much, too distant from myself. Beyond even the slightest existence of reason.
Did you know you can remove a turtle's heart from his body and watch it beat for several hours on it's own?
Could it be fear? Am I secretly afraid of success? No, more likely than not, probably afraid of loss, and the more I obtain, the more I can lose. Not have taken from me, I don't really have that fear. I must, then, just be afraid of failing. Afraid of fucking everything up, but less afraid that I will do it and more convinced that I will.
I feel the detachment gaining it's hold over my emotions more and more each day. I can no longer recognize the detachment from the world I have always felt from the detachment from the life I now live. Everyday is becoming a more difficult challenge to interact, to laugh with others. As though my mind finds my body necessary for nothing more than sustenance. Even communication with my beloved family is becoming increasingly forced. I might as well be making appointments to call them on my Where's Waldo calender.
Has anyone ever noticed how disturbed Waldo's world is? Where ever he goes, there is nothing but mass mayhem, a complete lack of stability and an abundance shattered reality. Everybody wants to see where he is, but nobody wants to go there themselves. No wonder he's in a different place each month, he cannot find any location of normalcy. Lost in a sea of distortion. Literally, this month he is in the ocean.
A fruit fly can survive and act almost normal with it's head removed.
You have to find yourself wondering, on occasion, what life would be like in ignorance? When you see certain kinds of people on the streets or in shopping centers, and you can just tell they are the kind of people who don't read into anything. The world is exactly as it appears around them. Nothing more. Life is just life, and it exists just to enjoy, or something along those lines. Do you ever feel, for a moment at least, jealous of them, of their blissful obliviousness? Do you find yourself curious about what their personal life consists of? Are they this way all the time, or do they have a cloak powerful enough to camouflage any trace of doubt or lingering concern? Could I use that cloak on myself?
Yet, still I find myself in Afghanistan, in a place where I feel a sort of connection with people. A strange one though, my best friend is a German soldier, Kris, who has seen his fair share. After him comes the unit I support, the combat soldiers who go on missions on a nearly daily basis. I find myself constantly trying to understand their emotions about everything they are experiencing, desperately searching for links to my own feeling on war, on the chain of command, on home. The guys I work with, I have given up long ago on believing I will ever find a connection with them.
Elroy speaks constantly of Hawaii, of the calm he feels there, the freedom of concern that "main landers" seem to lack. Seems unreal. I must visit this place to confirm it's affects for myself.
For now, it's just me and my camera, doing my best to catch glimpses of what reminds me of what my life once was, when it had a solid purpose, a motivation. No, that's not entirely accurate, the purpose then I still hold now, to keep those near me alive. And destroy any who threaten. I guess when the threat was constant, it was easy to focus on the purpose.
My camera, and this little guy.
chrysis:
Hm, gone forever?