So that I may know myself
The desire to escape to far-off lands magnifies.
I find myself growing evermore tired of the monotony of comfort and familiarity.
Sometimes things feel so meaningless and disappointing that I just want to give it all up. It’s when I’m unable to decipher the truth that the apathy comes back.
Everything is indeed meaningless — but the thing that drives me remains. And it has no intention of being denied.
But sometimes, the opposite happens.
Sometimes, I discover something that shakes my very world — something that flips the entire game on its head.
These are the moments I live for. This is what keeps me going.
I find myself repulsed by the games I’ve continued to partake in, even after seeing what I’ve seen.
I suppose I hadn’t seen enough.
Now, it seems I have.
Perhaps the only way to proceed in this journey is to continuously stumble in any one direction until you’ve fallen flat on your face.
Until you’ve grown so weary — so tired — that you’re forced to make the only move left available to you.
A move that you couldn’t have even realized existed, until there was nothing else that remained.
I know this world is not for me. This culture — its people — its games.
None of it.
I’ve been trying to fit a square peg in the proverbial round hole.
Oftentimes I feel like abandoning everything and running off to Asia. And the truth is I’ve already set this plan in motion.
And I’m tired of who I’ve been conditioned to be.
Just, tired.
This is why I stay awake until 5am almost every night. To escape the world.
And when I’ve found what I’m looking for, in the quiet of the night — I rejoice in silence, and tell myself, “Don’t you dare lose it again.”
I always do.
But I’ve been finding my way back quicker than ever before.
I’m learning to see the beauty and utter perfection inherent in everything we’ve been conditioned to believe is imperfect.
The above is probably the greatest conspiracy to have ever taken root in our world.
It may in fact be the crux of everything.
Everyone is fake. No one is willing to share their truth.
It’s all go nowhere, do nothing, irrelevant nonsense.
An antiseptic to purge what little humanity remains.
Teared up in the shower today thinking about the truth.
I no longer revere anyone. For even the few I look up to have suffered and will continue to suffer just like every other human being on this planet.
Anyone that would deny this is a salesman. Perhaps it’s himself he seeks to sell the most.
There is but one, and even he no doubt suffers under a peculiar weight. Knowing this, the idolization seems to have all but evaporated.
As for the rest of them: there isn’t even a morsel of interest. Nor a drop of pity.
Why pity those who do not seek? It’s a deplorable life indeed, but they know nothing of it, sparing them the shame. And they would burn you at the stake if you sought to make them aware of this.
But you . . .
If you’re reading this . . .
I’m sorry I let you down.
I’d say that perhaps this has finally come to an impasse, but I’ve come to learn the futility in making promises I’m unable to keep.
You wouldn’t believe me anyways. And I cannot blame you.
I was searching for that fateful last email because I wanted to know the date. When I was shown a preview of me ending with “all the best” my heart sank.
I couldn’t even bring myself to open it.
To attempt to wrap something up “cleanly” when it would have been best left raw and real . . . And before it even began.
No matter how much I attempted to display my pain, something inside tells me it must have been worse for you.
Perhaps this is incredibly vain and misguided. Perhaps you will find this laughable. But if the heart truly points north it says otherwise. It speaks of an unspeakable knowing. And I cannot deny this feeling recurs on a regular basis.
I’ve written and scrapped two or three letters since then — and I’m glad — because none of them spoke the truth.
Just more desperate grasping of thin air.
More false attempts to convince myself of commitment.
What’s the point in making promises if they’re broken as soon as the words leave your mouth?
If it was already done, there’d be no need.
This is not a plea.
I do not mean to sound alarmist.
If there’s any doubt, know that I’m as stubborn as they come.
It’s 4:23am and I’m starving.
Tired but never in the mood to sleep.
At night is the only time I can be truly alone.
The mind grows weary and loosens its grasp.
This is always when the unmistakable feelings arise. Visions of things.
It’s been a long time coming. Five years now? Six? Seven?
It’s ironic how things turned out to be the exact opposite of what I was lead to believe.
And I’ll never get that time back.
But it had to be as it was.
There’s regret, but only that things weren’t different back then.
There’s no regret in the path I took to get here.
I only played the cards I was dealt.
Still incredibly fortunate — even after my most recent disaster.
Bittersweet feelings mixed with hunger pangs.
That’s the problem with staying up so late: it’s almost breakfast time for sane people.
I should probably stop saying that.
It’s a guilty pleasure but the reality couldn’t be further from the truth.
I’m among the most sane in the world.