https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lxDAtAP2rZ4

Life Goes On

It is difficult to continue. 

A part of me believes that once I've made a choice it is determined, like building a structure. The pieces don't break or go away, you just add more and more to the existing framework. Instead I am finding large chunks of my memory twisted to fit some kind of perspective that constantly changes in ways I don't understand. 

I'm not certain what I value. 

I'm not sure who I am. 

I assumed for a long time that I care about other people. I am convinced now the ability to look outside myself in a genuine way is almost gone. I assumed I was smart. I thought I was hardworking. I thought I was clever and creative. I thought I was above average, that I had an edge. 

Not sure I believe any of that now. 

No one is special. We've all heard that a hundred times. Pretty sure I didn't believe that until recently. I wonder if people really think about this though. I'm getting the sense we all think we're special, different. If we don't we still think we are, we just think also think we don't add up to others. Those feelings are not connected. 

I used to think I was the same as everyone else while also feeling I was special, those contradict. It doesn't matter. Insecurities I don't think relate to this...ego driven feeling of being in a spotlight. Even when feeling like you blend in, feeling like no one sees you. That is a unique kind of attention given to yourself. A guilty pleasure worthy of admiration. Being unseen, being ugly, being forgotten. 

Being different. At least you're different. 

Or maybe that's just me. I doubt it. I'm certain it is not just me. 

This feeling is eating me up. I don't know what I care about. The inspiration to create is gone, I don't feel I have anything worthwhile to contribute. A small part of me still writes because I expect to be heard by someone, but an equally strong part of me knows I will not be listened to, but I must keep writing to sort things out. In hopes that I might regain inspiration and faith to keep producing something. 

I used to believe I acted for the sake of an action itself. But then I thought myself into a corner. A corner where things do not exist in and of themselves, they exist only because we ascribe meaning to them. In that world I cannot do anything for anythings sake alone, it must be for some other reason. 

And in that world I don't know why I would do anything. 

Is why I thought I felt so disheartened. But in a world where nothing means anything and we give that meaning to things. In that world I am nothing as well. 

I love the idea of souls. I want inherent properties. I want to taste the heart. The essence. Of everything, of others, of me. 

Those things don't exist. My meaning for continuing probably does not exist. But also, even if it does, what am I but another. What is the world if I am not here. I can find myself in books and songs and movies but that doesn't matter. 

I haven't done anything, I can't bring myself to do anything. I don't know why I won't, I don't know what I am afraid of. I don't know what I'm looking for, I don't know what rules I'm following. 

I know the world is absolutely absurd and none of this makes sense. I know that people with pieces of paper waive them in other people's faces and we act differently because of the symbols we ascribe to these papers and prints and people. 

I feel very conscious of how many times I use the word "I" because I feel incredibly conscious of how often I am talking about myself. I am noticing that I hardly pay attention to anyone at all. That I can't say I love them when all I have in my head is ego, ego, ego. If I were to read something like I'm writing I wouldn't pin it as selfish, but it very much is. 

How much ego is necessary. How can something entirely ego driven have no will? Maybe I do have a will I just don't know what it is. 

I want to live without thinking about all of this, but I don't know how to stop. I don't want it to destroy me, but it is. 

I know that if I have enough will I can manage to delude myself into continuing. But will for what? I am not special. I am not different. I can see others who have all the same qualities, the same thought processes, the same conclusions. I can see people who are better. I can see people who are quicker. I can see people who have more confidence than I do. I see so much that exceeds me. 

I have this sense I need to get out. I know there is something I'm missing. I feel asleep. I feel pathetic. I feel as though I am on the outside. 

I read something Xavier said to me, critiquing my love, my values, what I wanted, who I was. 

He was right. My values were flimsy, I didn't follow them, I made a lot of mistakes and I didn't love him completely selflessly. I had two kinds of love for him, selfish and selfless. I wanted to pretend there was only one. I wanted to think I loved him only to help him but I was selfish. I just wanted him in my life. 

The answer to that hurts. 

This all hurts. I have done nothing. I feel so incredibly terrible. So worthless. I see no place that I can find here. I see no reason to continue. I'm trudging on but it doesn't matter. 

For some reason I never worked hard at any one thing. I never found anything I loved. I found only one person who I loved. 

I was stupid, I fell for stupid lies. I was too self conscious to be the kind of person who can claim ignorance. I was selfish, I was not consistent. I kept trying to protect myself at times I should have just taken hits and learned from them. 

I need to quit with that. With protecting myself. I don't know what I'm saving. I've been entirely convinced there is some piece of me underneath all of this worth saving. Like there was with Xavier. But I don't think that is true. 

I've been lying to myself for a long time. 

It makes no different to anyone but myself what I choose to do now. I can do whatever I want now. 

I am all powerful, just like anyone else, and I don't have a will to do anything with that. I can't see anything.