e n i g m a

rryland:

do you ever just wanna sit next to someone and listen to everything they could possibly say about anything ever just because you like their face and their voice and their general existence 

As far as I know, there has always been this ideology on how we should strive for emancipation and independence. We hold on to the thought that we establish our individuality through breaking free from the shackles of control. That we find ourselves, we make our story by figuring it out on our own. I think this is a load of bull. Total control of how we go about life is nothing short of terrifying.  I need not point out that we get one chance to live this life and making a mess of it is a real possibility. On a side note, I don’t particularly believe in fate; that things will unfold in some unfathomable manner. The hard truth is you, an imperfect, limited, and occasionally stupid being, call the shots. So how do you know if you’re squeezing out your potential or you’re just wasting your time? How do you know if this is it? That this is what you’re supposed to be doing? That this is where you’re supposed to be? Well, you don’t.

Right now, I am at a point where I don’t really know where to go. So I busy myself with chasing after temporary escapes. Usually 5-6 hours of just turning off my brain and just not caring about this pathetic human situatedness. But after the momentary high, I fall right back to where I was; which is basically stuck in this existential rut.

So after days of poring over this plight, I arrive at this plausible, yet undeniably uncertain conclusion: this pursuit to make sense out of everything is rooted to the need for some sense of significance. And who else will affirm your importance if not for other people? Allow me to borrow a striking line I encountered while reading Jonathan Safran Foer’s Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close: “my life story is the story of everyone I’ve ever met” we don’t get to judge who we are; it is the people we hold dear who do this for us. We become good enough if we are good enough for them. So no, we don’t pull out and run away with ourselves to find out who we are; we find our quiddity in others. We find assurance, stability, and meaning in the eyes of the ones we, in turn, give assurance, stability, and meaning to. The hard part is finding the right people to find purpose in. Man is sadly and essentially a social being.

Or maybe I’m wrong. Ah! my mind is tired, my ass is sore, and my fingers are stiff cause it’s cold out here on my balcony. So I repeat, I am not entirely sure at all of this premise. Do let me know what you think. 

I guess I won’t ever be able to be completely oblivious to the pressures of the common man’s pursuit to be significant. I most certainly am not immune to this; I am no exception. The only thing I hope for is that I won’t succumb to the mind numbing emptiness of wanting to be significant to people who can’t drink in all that I am. Because I would like to believe that all I will really ever legitimately be is authentic.