Clutter
Is it a problem?
Is it a confusion?
Or is it just a fear of uncertainty?
It feels hollow at times, real at times. Sometimes meaningful, sometimes indifferent. Sometimes up, sometimes down. The roller coaster ride of life is funny where you go from ‘Maybe it’s not too bad’ to ‘I need to get my shit together real soon’ in a matter of minutes. Or maybe I am just attempting to romanticize my boring life. I don’t know, I really don’t know.
I start to think if there is anything like a well informed opinion. Whatever I think I know keeps changing everyday when I hear more about the same. An opinion is just selective knowledge of a certain set of opinions and ignorance of others. The above opinion about opinion is also an opinion which I know is going to change soon. Or it won’t. I don’t know, I really don’t know.
The internet is full of fancy psychological terms for this. Am I reading what I am supposed to be reading? Am I reading what I am wanting to read or am I being made to read what I am reading? This cloud of thoughts which I call my opinion, is it truly mine? Maybe I am made to think this way through some sort of indirect influence. I don’t know, I really don’t know.
Sometimes you look at trivial things and say to yourself: ‘wouldn’t it be nice if life was as simple as this dog’s?’ I would pay shitloads of money just for that moment of clarity. I look externally to solve problems which has to be answered internally by asking absolutely honest questions and searching for those answers. The dilemma between comfort and risk is killing me. What is this mental clutter? I don’t know, I really don’t know.
For questions like ‘What is the point of all this anyway?’ ‘What is success?’, there are momentary answers but there is never an answer which remains for a considerable period of time. When you try to answer these questions, getting more skeptical to traditional world views is a natural by-product. Some people say I overthink and I am judging myself too hard. I don’t know, I really don’t know.
All I know is,
I may stay confused now but I will always strive to attain coherence. I will continue to hope.
Hoping one day it will all make sense.
It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it; but the young know they are wretched for they are full of the truthless ideal which have been instilled into them, and each time they come in contact with the real, they are bruised and wounded. It looks as if they were victims of a conspiracy; for the books they read, ideal by the necessity of selection, and the conversation of their elders, who look back upon the past through a rosy haze of forgetfulness, prepare them for an unreal life. They must discover for themselves that all they have read and all they have been told are lies, lies, lies; and each discovery is another nail driven into the body on the cross of life. — Of Human Bondage, W. Somerset Maugham
Originally published at http://mumblingmadrasi.wordpress.com on July 23, 2018.
