Dead Ends

Nothing really matters

Often I hear voices speaking in Vietnamese while sitting in the kitchen, as it shares a wall with a bank.

Often I hear voices in my head, speaking of fantastical things.

I say fantastical but sometimes I question their validity, as the feeling can be unmistakable.

And even though these thoughts and ideas seem foreign, almost like an alternate reality — I can’t help but feel there are truths within them.

Each day I learn something new.

Today I learned how to be careless.

It’s tired and trite, but I’ll say it anyway:

Nothing really matters.

Yeah, yeah.

I know what I have done.

Just know I don’t expect you to “know” this, or feel this way, simply from the meek declaration.

Perhaps you care less than I do.

Perhaps you know this truth more than I.

You see, I thought I knew this to be the truth.

But really I was cherry picking.

I don’t care about most things — but the things I do care about, the things that remain — this is what requires my most immediate attention.

As these are the things that continue to imprison me.

I’ve decided to change my approach after having this profound realization.

Actually, I didn’t “decide” to do anything: it’s very much a necessity.

This is the truth I’ve been trying to tease out, over the past several days.

As I sensed something was deeply wrong.

I don’t feel there’s anything more to say about it.

Ambiguous and useless as it may be to another, it is what it is.

And so I merely sit here, knowing not what to think or say.

Perhaps a part of me has been afraid of this truth, as if nothing really matters, then what is the point of anything?

The only point of doing something is for the thing itself.

And perhaps I’ve grown accustomed to being driven by something entirely different.

Without this, can I continue? Why would I do so?

One of the drives that seems to remain valid is the sincere desire to know the truth. To master myself, so that I may be free.

I can’t think of any other reason as to why I am obsessed with this.

There’s no reward, no trophy, no “likes” from sitting alone in a tiny kitchen, writing about oneself.

Why would I do this?

It’s true, having cherry-picked from the vast field of truth that, there’s no good; no bad — the view of this pursuit itself as a “good” thing, remained.

But even after seeing through this, here I am.

What else is there to do in this life?

If everything is a dead end, one may as well devote himself to becoming awake In it. At least he’ll see it for what it is, and be immersed in it.

A few nights ago, in the wee hours of the morning, as I lay awake in a restless, sleep-deprived state: I had a strange vision.

And it was one of a dark road, surrounded by long, stark trees, cheering and jeering.

I don’t know what this means. It’s likely nonsense. But it keeps recurring. It’s something I’ve filed away in memory, for no apparent reason.

Curious how I assign value to such a seemingly useless oddity.

I must confess, that perhaps the reason this is the case, is because part of me feels this will one day become a reality.

Walking a dark road, surrounded by these trees that seem to feel, and communicate.

Once again, it seems the thing I “want” most in this life is something I prevent myself from having.

Which means I don’t really want it. At least not in the immediate sense.

And I know certain things are holding me back.

Certain things that, being unknown, are out of my control.

But it’s in my control to discover them.

Even if that means letting go of all control.

Today, something was amiss.

Having discovered what was amiss, I am back in the fold.

But this fold seems aimless and purposeless. And I seem to hold this high, like some sort of ideal.

Why would it be an ideal?

It’d only be considered an ideal of it was considered “good” as well.

It’s not good: it’s a necessity, plain and simple.

These past few days have not been kind to me, as these thoughts swimming in my head flexed their ruthless intent, with little to no regard for my sense of peace.

But what I discovered seems to have put an end to this chase; an end to the endless thought.

But now a fear has replaced this vacuum: a fear of this truth.

I don’t see a solution to this, or that it’s something to be solved.

And so I will leave it alone.