That’s Me in the Corner; That’s Me in the Spotlight
Have you ever wondered if you’re living a double life? I don’t anymore. I’m pretty sure I am. Oh, don’t feel sorry for me. Life’s too short, right? If I’m right, then I get to live mine in double measure.
You get this feeling sometimes that you are meant to live your life one way but then as you move along you’ll find yourself being pulled to a different direction. You thread this line of living up to expectations while trying to get hold of yourself in a way that you trust that you are the one holding the steering wheel. But sometimes you ask yourself if life isn’t just a big brainwashing session, and that whatever you do to your belief system as you grow up and grow old, none of it is yours. You will believe one thing; another person will believe another. Both of you will convince yourselves and others that you know what you know. Then someone out there, if such misfortune befalls you while you can still open your eyes to view the world with discretion, will prove that you have both been fooling yourselves.
When I talk in the third person, it makes me feel like I’m not sure about what I’m talking about. It also makes me feel less responsible for it – like I’m taking myself away from my own line of thought.
I feel kind of neutered sometimes. It’s my safe place. But one can’t always be safe. The classic paradox of the “unstoppable force meeting an immovable object” will strike you in one way or another. You just don’t know when you’ll get to be the force and when you’ll get to be the object. What’s worse, you’ll never know when you’ll get to be the bystander as these things happen to those around you.
There’s no such thing as complete neutrality. I can’t be drawn to the hustle and bustle of the city life with all the lights & sounds and steel buildings and yet long for the tranquility and simplicity of the countryside. At some point, I’ll have to decide to settle somewhere. No, it’s not about identity. It’s about acquiescence and where to place it without causing your heart to protest too much.
Oh, no. I’ve said too much. Yet, why do I feel like I haven’t said enough?
Every whisper of every waking hour i’m choosing my confessions.
the drama of life is not so much the villains and victims; rather it is the pointless struggle, for life in reality is governed by destiny and the endless meaningless sacrifice for nothing; for there are necessarily times for everyone to be helpless despite all efforts and prayers; but the realization of a person’s insignificance seldom leads to acceptance, and mostly only to despair.
Now, I’ve said too much…
I think that despite everything, there’s a part of me that still believes in destiny.
re: “pointless struggle” – it is (a struggle), it is (pointless).