Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Effigy

Life seems so... pointless, right now. I hate this feeling. I feel so incapable of controlling what I want to control. It feels as though I'm not... good enough. Not smart enough. Not attentive enough. I honestly just feel like I'm going insane. How does everyone else around me... live?

I think I'm going to put a question and list above my monitor, to try to constantly remind myself that I need to be doing something I find productive. I feel... I mean that's what you're supposed to do, right? If I am just productive everyday I will feel better, right? I want to be able to say yes.

It just all feels so empty. Everything. Things I never wanted to be empty and it's just so fucking sad. It's literally the worst thing I've ever experienced. I can't even make myself cry about it. I just feel... empty is the only word I have. Of course I came across this Murakami quote and it was like being punched in the face, I knew I adored this man for a reason. 

"So that’s how we live our lives. No matter how deep and fatal the loss, no matter how important the thing that’s stolen from us—that’s snatched right out of our hands—even if we are left completely changed, with only the outer layer of skin from before, we continue to play out our lives this way, in silence. We draw ever nearer to the end of our allotted span of time, bidding it farewell as it trails off behind. Repeating, often adroitly, the endless deeds of the everyday. Leaving behind a feeling of immeasurable emptiness."

I feel like he understands; somewhere, where ever he is, he has experienced what I am now. 
He's alive, and that's comforting.
 
Am I weak? I don't like to think so, I struggle a lot, but I think that's okay. 
I've learned a lot about myself over the past few months. 
I'm more in touch with who I am than I have ever been.
Now what does that even mean? 
I have been working so hard to curate myself into being who I want to be. I've done a pretty decent job of it, I'm happy with who I am, for the most part. 

"Cause I can't wait to figure out what's wrong with me, so I can say, "this is the way that I used to be. There's no substitute for time."

But something is missing. What am I missing? What am I doing incorrectly? How can I make it better? I wish I could answer all these questions.

Sometimes during the day I feel like I don't have the capacity to function. For instance someone will speak to me and I feel like my mind can't process what's happening, as if they're speaking a different language. It makes me think something is wrong. It has been happening more often. I wonder if I am just so lost in my mind sometimes that I'm not paying attention to what's around me at all. I'm slightly scared of it manifesting in more physical ways, dropping things, tripping, etc. Right now it just seems to be about focus and processing information in my head, I don't know. I am crazy.

I think a lot about hand holding. My hand has almost always been held through everything I do. Everything else was just pattern matching for me, which sort of makes me think that's why I'm good at design and not so much at computation. I often wish someone was holding my hand through life. That sentiment just makes me sad, because I think, "I know whose hand I want to hold through life".

"Are you calm? settle down. Write a song, Ill sing along. Soon you will know that you are sane. You’re on top of the world again."

I want to make music. I think I am going to start dedicating time each day to going to play piano. I should have been doing this anyway but I have been slacking. I usually get in about 2 hours per week of play time, which is just not enough. In a few years I want to be able to sit at a piano and play something. I want this so badly. It's something I know I need to work for. I think my next large investment will be some sort of piano. But unfortunately I won't be making any investments for what feels like a very, very long time.

It looks like I'll be "studying" in London and Cambridge this summer. I don't really feel anything about this.

Time moves so strangely. "Is it too late, is it too late, is it too late, hummingbird?" 

I should probably write more. I probably will. 

"What do you want to be in the world? I mean, the whole world, what do you want to be? Close your eyes and think about that."

"Found." 

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