We as humans tend to obsess over ourselves, we are a generation of selfies. We stare into the mirror endlessly, we love talking about ourselves.

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But I keep asking myself where this stems from? Are we slowly becoming more and more self-indulgent, or was this inert sense of self always there? Are we exploring individualism? Or simply moving towards a more narcissistic self? Narcissism has always existed but the rate at which the intensities are peaking is rather alarming.

Does my narrative on the self echo of narcissism?

I don’t know. For me, it is essential to attempt to understand how my brain works, how my experiences shape my perception of the world as I know it

This essay is almost self-indulgent where I try to breakdown how I think and feel about certain things on account of these experiences.

This might be a-

i) rant

ii) monologue

iii) none of the above

But this is how I can try and make sense of being lost in thought and lost in time. It’s the lyrics in a song that appeals to me more than the tune — the way it paints a picture for my imagination and how I can hang that very painting in a different setting to make sense of another context.

My mind plays games with me, more often than not it pranks me with words specific to a certain frame of reference which it then deconstructs to make ambiguous. It’s almost like a game of magnet antakshari where one player sings a song and the other player says ‘magnet’ on a word/phrase which has to be a part of the next song that he sings.

A: “Such a feeling’s coming over me

There is wonder in most everything I see

Not a cloud in the sky, got the sun in my eyes

And I won’t be surprised if it’s a dream…” [MAGNET]

B: “I have a dream, a song to sing

To help me cope with anything

If you see the wonder of a fairy tale

You can take the future even if you fail

I believe in angels…”

It also acts as a bookmark for words. It sheds (to allow/ to eliminate/ an outhouse) more light from a different perspective on the way I want to make sense of things.

Yes, I am obsessed with finding meaning, making sense of everything I stumble upon which then creeps into my perception of how I look at life, in general. This is fuelled by extensive questioning which rarely answers the question at hand but in its own right can range from observation to a revelation.

This questioning has sometimes led me to my nemesis — the balance that one must achieve is challenging that one can be lost in the quest.

Sometimes the feeling of being lost can be rewarding — to unthink the thinkable and voila! Perception gets a new filter.

Other times it is unnerving where there seems to be no beginning or end.

But then again, I love a challenge — or do I like the idea of one? I’m not sure yet.

I’m not sure about a lot of things in life — what I want from it, who I am or who I want to be- and what is the point of thinking and analyzing so much- I haven’t found a reason or rather a good enough reason to not be or think the way I do.

Or does everyone think like this? And am I just consumed by my thoughts — is this narcissism yet? Am I trying too hard? (right here my mind plays another song for me, “are you calm are you comfortable? Lay down your heart is over there…”)

However, I am not sure of how my brain can escalate without many triggers (without any trigger) — how my ever-changing handwriting can be a gateway into my state of mind.

But, then again I don’t write much or externalize my thoughts very often — haven’t felt the need to go do that yet. I do get interested in how things — small details can affect people differently.

How does this happen? My interest, in theory, stems from my ardent need to understand how I make connections to make sense of the world.

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