Torn and hurt. I don't know what to believe in. I don't know what to do with myself. My mind constantly ruminates over all the mistakes I've made with people. I think I've lost perspective. I can no longer fight very well for myself because I see the uselessness of the battle and the incredible lonely pain involved in war. I prefer win/win situations, however rare they are in this world.
Tears well up when I question deep inside, what do I really want? Why do I have to be plagued with The Questioning Disease? I thought human beings gave up the "Why WHY WHYYYY?" upon maturing to first grade, but definitely by high school.
I know some people never question. They move forward easily; hit a snag, remove it, and keep on trucking. Why is that not easy for me?
Why must I question deeper, my motives, and examine the possibility of changing for the better? I've always been told I'm too analytical, too sensitive, that I think too much. Yet, the people I admire most think and feel deeply. They use their brain fodder and heart excess give wisdom and beauty to the world. I know this is a good way to be, to live, to grow. However, WHY does it have to be so painful? Maybe it's just my attitude that has to change? That's a concept.
Sometimes, when attempting to raise my consciousness, nausea overcomes me. I find myself shaking, as unsteady on the outside as I am on the inside. That's when I wish I wasn't conscious. Yet when I interact with people who are unconscious, I want to get away as far as possible from them.
The incredible magnitude of my emotions overwhelm me. The enormous amount of pain, suffering, doubt. Even during moments of bliss when I'm oozing ecstasy and others are in agony, I don't think I have a right to be so fulfilled when those in Africa and elsewhere are so traumatized. It's difficult to vibrate in a vulnerable zone when I know there are people who wake up everyday looking for someone not on guard they can prey upon.
I can only imagine what emotional life is like for others. I know not for certain and I have no way of knowing if my intensity is common. Art, literature, music, architecture, even sports... sublimate emotions no one necessarily wants to spell out. Why must I spell it out? Why not just feel and then create? Twala! No explanations necessary.
Only from what I hear others tell me can I get a sense of where they are at. The happiness I experience at times also seems to be magnified in comparison to other's joys.
But how do I know for certain and why should I care?
Why can't I just enjoy whatever comes my way? Next?
- WHAT IS THE AUTHENTIC ANTENNA?
- MY IDES OF MARCH-here it is again!
- THE LESSON FROM LIVING A DEEPER LIFE
- PUTTING PROBLEMS INTO PERSPECTIVE
- BODYGUARD, PARTY, OR FAN CLUB?
- GROWING UP, GROWING OLD, GROWING GRATEFUL
- LISTEN TO THE BLOODY BODY
- THERE BUT NOT THERE
- IF ONLY A DISTRACTION COULD DIVERT MY DISCOMFORT
- THE OUTER WRAPPER IS ONLY THE OUTER WRAPPER
- THANK THE PAIN
- WHITE HEAT
- MY BODY IS MY THERMOMETER
- TUMBLING ONTO THE BLANK PAGE
- WELCOME TO MY WORLD!
- WHY MUST I COMPARE MYSELF WITH OTHERS?
- I JUST WANT TO BE QUIET
- MY NAME IS OF NO IMPORTANCE
- ▼ March (19)