Listening to soundtracks. Still doing puzzles. Obsessively trying to learn French, German, Japanese and Arabic. Just those languages. There are rules, you know. Trying to make myself work hard. Trying to do the hard yards. Figure out what that process is. I have some idea of where I want to end up. To be good at everything, of course. What else? But how do you get there? How many bad poems before a good one? How long before you can hold an interesting conversation with anyone?
A slave to the things I’m already in the middle of. How do you have a truly original thought? How do I reconnect with my feelings? What on Earth happened to me? Maybe it’s all good. Maybe I just lack perspective. I consciously follow strict morals. Or something like that. I understand the principle of following through with things. But I try to do everything at once. Always have my mind on something else. Everything is incomplete. Not good enough. My mind and soul are never at rest. There are so many unresolved emotions.
You will gain all these skills and abilities. But what are you losing in the meantime? Did I knowingly make this sacrifice? What if I can never get back what I had? What if I’ll never be the same person again?
Still haven’t filled out the forms for being a high school teacher. For casual teaching. Laziness or something else entirely? I don’t engage with myself. I am a ghost most of the time. Unnoticed. This is not a sob story, just an observation. It’s strange. I’m an edgy person in a way because I haven’t accepted myself. I don’t know how I feel about things. I, like everyone else, am a hypocrite. It’s inescapable. It’s not deliberate or even necessarily that bad. Nobody wants to be one. Want things but also want to pretend like I don’t want them. In denial. An uncomfortable presence for other people. I need to work these things out. Relax and know myself. Begin living. Do only what matters.
We live in this moment. Infinitesimally small. We see the skin and hair of people. Ignore all the flesh underneath. The complex anatomy that’s beyond our understanding. We live in a tiny sheath around the Earth. The thousands of kilometres below us never enter our thoughts, nor the millions of light years above us. It’s the nature of this world. So then, why are you here, now? Of all the places you could be? Of all the times? Perhaps it makes no difference. But this consciousness exists. So, what are you going to do with it?