step two

Recently I find myself wanting things again that I long ago convinced myself unattainable. But can I still have these things? Are they even feasible? Do they match with who I am now? I can't get anywhere without removing certain comforts.

I will make a mess of this life for a chance at one that is so uncertain. I start today alone.

I should be more scared than I am, which is not to say that I'm not still a frightened mess. But doing what I know is right is coming so much easier than I had believed possible. One by one, things will change by my own hand.

If only I could explain to those around me why I act this way.

buried

I'm scared of growing apart. Every year I feel like I lose more and more friends, and then never connect with anyone new. I watch those around me diverge into two groups: those who sullenly shut themselves up further into their own solitude and those who obsessively intermingle, perfecting their guise and pretense. I see trepidation expressed in two polar forms. I wonder how I can combat this schism, but at the same time, see how much I too fear intimacy in not only new encounters but also new connections with pre-existing faces, as if experience has diminished to null my ability to trust anyone. And this is what is called being adult? My childish paranoia sets in

as I cling to those I should let go
and smother those that cannot stay.

I dig my own lonely grave.

hmm

I don't deal with anything. I don't make choices. I analyze. I accomplish nothing but excuses and delay. The end.

someday...

"'Was that life?' I want to say to death. 'Well then! Once more!'"

miscellaneous fragments

Forming intimate friendships with people becomes increasingly difficult with age, unless constantly practiced. It's a skill we develop as kids, but if given up, it is very difficult to pick back up again. We become so set in our ways and unwilling to open up to new experiences, that I sometimes think it's amazing that we can even find one tolerable person in the world. In fact I think that's why most people end up pairing off - they find one person that they can mildly tolerate and they cling to that one person like glue, not out of love but out of fear of being alone. Of course most people won't admit this, not even to themselves (sometimes not even to myself). But maybe I'm just being bitter!


I want to take responsibility for once, but it's so challenging when I'm surrounded by miserable people all giving me stern advice about my irresponsible wayward pursuits. Most of them can't even admit their own dissatisfaction and yet they see that as no hindrance to their self-proclaimed righteousness - an imperfection I perhaps wish I had more of.


Am I not fun anymore? Am I driven to the point of being dull? Most of the people I interact with know my general interests but they don't understand their importance. They see them in the same light as their own - a way to pass the time. I can't explain to the contrary without worrying that they'll become defensive (an assumption I make from prior experiences). I'd rather be secretive than debase my own pursuits - I find myself saying less and less.


Oh, if I could see things in real time.

a career

I spent much of my passing time last year trying to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up. My current profession was the best option when I chose it, but then my path unanticipatedly diverged and it is no longer for me. Earlier in the year I was being mentored by one of my co-workers. I was put in charge of a challenging project given that his guidance would be at my disposal. And so when I was stuck on a problem, I would go over to his desk for help. Every time I began to explain whatever issue I was having his eyes would light up and before I could even finish my explanation, he would already be well into his newest lecture with arms flailing and one piece of scratch paper after another being covered in sketches and formulas. I would sit there, frustrated and dumb, not listening to a word he was saying but instead just watching the excitement he was bathed in, thinking to myself: I want that. My group lead probably thought he was doing good, putting the novice with someone so energetic and driven, but nothing made me hate my job more. I was seething in sorrow-filled envy.

Of course I knew that I could never get such exhilaration from engineering, so I began the tedious attempt to pick out one of my interests and transform into a career path. But each option I explored required compromise and one by one I would come up with some excuse for each until I was finally out of options. Were my interests so passive and unmotivated? Were they even really interests at all? I started to feel like I lacked the passion to do anything with my life. But it was only after a handful of sporadic conversations with my friend that I realized the problem: I don't want a career. I don't want to conform and bastardize my interests into a profession, and hence rob them of their purity and well, my interest in them.

This conclusion was quite the opposite of her intention. In fact, I know she'd take personal offense to it since I think she's excelled at turning her interests into a profession that she loves. But then I also see a disagreeable compromise in her character in contrast to when I knew her years before. People get too caught up making a name for themselves. They start to lose their original intentions and pursue interests more inline with their colleagues and superiors. They start to see success in bank account balances and increased business demands and responsibilities. Is that really success though or is that mere justification for hard work via other people's approval? I'm not saying melding passions and careers is bad in general or even impossible. But it's difficult not to lose the original purity of them once one starts relying on them for money or success.

So I keep my job separate for now. It was a mistake on my part to try and have both at once. I'm not sure what else to do about it yet.

...

i'm so mean.

still

I have not left this view in weeks.

distance

Everything has become so secondary to my pursuit of consciousness: my relationships, self-maintenance, job, everything. It is has become an obsessive occupation, which only distances me further from my reality with every step I take closer to self-realization. Am I finally heading towards a breaking point where my current state will no longer be an acceptable state? I keep waiting for drastic change, created by drastic (external) events, but this is a dreamy and lazy hope: change will be gradual and self-inflicted.


*unfinished*

welcome back

I've been horridly neglecting my blog these past weeks. Numerous ideas have come to mind but either I'm not near my computer at those moments of inspiration or the sentiments are too frustrated within themselves to be expressed coherently in words. Plus like everything else, once I get out of habit, it's troublesome to get back into it. So since I under-wrote for January, I'll attempt to make up for it this month.

destruction

This isn't right for either of us. My heart wanders. His is filled with dependency, not love. I want my independence but cannot yet bear the loneliness it entails. I leave him in desperate limbo, clinging to me because he doesn't know where else to go. What's wrong? I can't even stand to be in the same room with him anymore. We pout constantly. All he does is sit there silently, following me, watching me, and when he can sense that it's getting on my nerves, he just stares off at nothing or gets upset with himself. I feel so guilty for wanting more! I care for him, I do. But I can't help him; it hurts. I can feel his fear. He's afraid of me. He is so bottled up within himself that he cannot care about anything. He cannot express anything. He appears so blank and empty, dead. I've never known anyone so completely uncomfortable within his own skin, so awkward. I can't help him. If I leave him, it'll crush him (such ego!), but is it right to stay like this - both of us so miserable together though less miserable than if we were apart? I feel like I have a chance if I break, but I'll never make it off the diving board knowing the pain it would cause him. It is not fear holding me back, it's the human sacrifice it would require. And I am so undeserving. If I were a better person, I would never have thrust him into this dead end.