with myself. the world. my friends. my family. my past, especially. my future more so, these days.
it’s too much–the world, i mean. it is overstimulating and aggravating; my fight against it–my fight to stay afloat within it– goes depressingly unnoticed;
by the world, my friends, my family…
myself
…you get it.
i want to scream a lot these days.
a cry constantly sits at the base of my throat and threatens to reveal just how embarrassingly human i am.
but I am. that’s what is really hard, isn’t it?
i’m not a pessimist. i don’t subscribe to cynicism. i believe in the power of love, goodwill, faith, hope… i don’t know how much i believe in people anymore, but i recognize us as mediums for all of the above.
i hope to meet more soon.
can i say, i’m bad at interoception? i really have a hard time knowing what i’m feeling so don’t let me fool you otherwise, if i was/am.
yet this feeling, this one i know–looming catastrophe–because im in it. it is simultaneous
noise and silence.
it sits behind my eyelids like a horror scene. it’s The Ring: i’m seven again, curled up beneath a blanket in my childhood home living room (where ghosts are rumored to exist) and i’ve got seven days to (un)seal my fate.
that’s what it feels like now, in America. discussing human rights is like walking on eggshells, complicity with war crimes is a fashion trend–a signal of status, of being a Cool Girl (or Funny, Strong Guy)–these things you cannot buy anymore; forget consumerism, tell us how much you’re worth by who you’re willing to sacrifice.
yet, i feel beyond privileged. i’m so privileged i’m choking on my self-righteousness and moral superiority more than the greenhouse gases polluting our planet.
but this isn’t about me. it never really was, right?
it’s about You
that’s why you’re here. you didn’t click on this expecting satisfaction with anything other than a pristinely wrapped gift containing a mirror image of yourself. advice–for yourself–commentary on Your life situation (as if anyone could give that to you other than yourself).
i think you’re right for wanting that. i’ll admit that i want that too.
so here we are. two people at the brink of perpetual beginnings. i think the first step of untangling ourselves from this colossal, cosmic knot is realizing we are gonna die. maybe we are going to die never knowing ourselves, never knowing each other–that’s the horror of it all: a life lived in complicity. in complacency. measured by compliments, commodities, and Cash.
you have seven days to (un)seal your fate. i’ll leave you with what i began with (as an homage to the movie genre we are now living):
seeking the apocalypse is seeking simplicity–a pace that does not give way to convenience, connection that does not falter in the face of crisis: i have seen the end of the world; it has the same face as the beginning of another.
my face. yours.
we are going to die. this is exciting. this is freeing.
404 diary 