I find myself questioning the origins of my adopted humanity — the ability to contemplate being alive, the awkward position to question my very existence followed by the longing for a quiet and still mind.
It is this exercise that accompanies my waking moments, plaguing me throughout the day, only subsiding once I slumber. It is a continual distress that haunts my mind, forcing me to look for areas to bury my mind, to not let the waves of doubt and sorrow overcome my very being.
I have buried my head in constantly purchasing items, reasoning with myself that I need this or other thing, hoping that this or other thing I buy will quell my thirst and hunger. I have looked to love and relationships, to the yearning and full embrace of a woman to take my follies away. I am still plagued by the reality of my mortality none the less.
I run away from death, the constant nagging, fear and worry that I will one day be no more follows me around like an unwelcome mosquito, buzzing and woozing in my ear, somehow dodging the many blows I throw into the open air. I run away from these feelings of emptiness, the gnawing feeling that my existence carries no meaning, or ultimate goal and purpose. I fear that, if and when I do pass on, it will be equivalent to a grain of dust floating in the never resting wind, unknown and unseen. I run away from the thoughts that I’ll never succeed, that my dreams shall never be accomplished, like a withering tree bending towards the ground, yoo tired and thirsty, I am reminded of everything that never was, or never will be.
I would like to be a lot more hopeful, a lot more caring and gentle to myself. I would like to look up to my future, rather than down on it. I would like to be happy, to conjure up happiness in my past, my present and my future. I would like to be undeniably happy, radiating joy and hopefulness to those around me. I would love to be better and to love better. I want to live in a better world and not be so miserable all the time.
