Mirror
March 31st, 2024
It's common advice to say that action allows for self-improvement. That one day, when I look in the mirror, I'll feel that I am alright.
This morning I looked myself in the eyes. Dead straight. To see my own soul, reflected in the mirror. To see what might be allowed for something the remains of human.
I am lost. I cannot find what I'm looking for. The eyes are glassy, and they look far, far ahead, something distant. I cannot fathom the emotions I feel, nor can I ever understand them. What am I to do?
Can we control anything at all?
Dreams
When I was a boy, I dreamed of running a lap around the track. The other boys would run for miles without sweat.
Now I run several miles everyday. But I don't have anyone to run alongside with.
If I just willed myself to become normal, would I become normal? I wonder sometimes. I think back to my past, and I wonder about it. I wonder if I were being weird because I chose to be weird, as if some form of free will expression. I wonder if I chose to be different, and that choice makes me deserve pain and suffering.
I wonder if it's deserved---if what I am is morally inexcusable. Or, if it's all deterministic, and me turning out like this is just the result of being. I do not know. I don't know! I don't know anything at all. I cannot know, and I will continue to not know. It's too hard. Too difficult. Too much self-inflicted suffering.
...consciousness is an afterthought.