(Note: I have not proofread this at all, but I am lazy so edits will come later.)
This week has been too much. The fact that everyone thinks I'm on the verge of suicide is certainly a contributing factor, as well as the monotony I face being in this oppressive collegiate environment. I feel as if my creative spirit is being stifled by merely being here. I am accomplishing nothing. Everything I am doing now is inspired by some selfish desire for a better future for myself. But I am nothing. A speck of dust. Some protrusion in the space-time continuum with very little relevance to anything outside of my microcosm. A scratch on the dusty record of time, but nothing else.
When I start thinking with this nihilistic world view, I begin to worry a bit. I wish I had some God to keep me grounded, to help me believe that everything has significance. But I can't believe in old Jesus H. even if I wanted to. Unlike most modern atheists, proud of their grand defiance, and eager to flaunt their "higher intelligence" in the face of the devout, I view my atheism as a curse. That's what it really is; there is nothing to brag about. Egotistical white males who project this confidence in the philosophy that their existence means nothing are foolish. People are not fooled by their carelessly constructed illusion. No one is okay with that belief; it goes against the core structure of human thought to enjoy the belief that you are insignificant.
So here's to another Friday of insignificance. The Vermont chill soaks through my skin; I wish I had decided on something more substantial than a t-shirt with a scarf thrown over it. Sipping bitter coffee does little to jar me into a waking state. I am still detached and half asleep with a lethargic mind.
How do I fix this emptiness? Although I do not believe in my significance on a macroscopic scale, I refuse to add to the pointlessness of human life by approaching it lackadaisically. Being empty, or believing in nothing does not make you "edgy" or "cool". And it is not something marked only by teenage years. (Attributing nihilism or existential crises to hormones is the adult worlds way of delegitimizing the emotions of the young and trying to force them into their preconceived molds of teenage mediocrity.) Like any problem I am presented with, my dissatisfaction with my existence is something that I need to fix.
I cannot count how many times over the past two weeks I have had the words, "What do you want?" thrown in my direction, emphasis on different words or syllables depending on who was doing the asking. I abhor the question. I don't know. I don't know. STOP ASKING ME QUESTIONS I DON'T KNOW THE ANSWER TO. "I have no idea. I guess I'll figure it out." Calm. Anxiety bubbles beneath the surface as I force my body to reflect definitive confidence. Confident in my ignorance of what I want... what a wonderfully stupid thing to fake.
Everyone around me is right. I cannot be happy until I know what I want. But everything I want seems so distant and unattainable that when presented with the question, my mind freezes up and my instinct is to revert to false confidence, a talent the boarding school crowd is quite familiar with. "I want to be happy," is an almost acceptable answer, but then the follow-up question to that response is almost worse than, "What do you want?"
The things that make me happy seem so few. I like writing on a morning, I like literature, science, figuring out a difficult problem, sitting at breakfast for hours, people watching during lectures, seeing beautiful photographs, the feeling of finishing something overwhelming. I like certain things about people that surround me. I like the way my roommate deals with my tendency to hide my feelings, I like people with giant flaws, emotional frigidity, blue eyes, gentle souls, and poetic minds. I love the things people are embarrassed or self-conscious about. All of these things make me happy in a temporary sense. But how do I translate that into something permanent? What are long term things that make me happy?
Maybe I think too much. Maybe the solution to my problem is to just do what makes me happy in the moment and let the long run fall into place. But how do I know that this train of thought is not a representation of my brainwashing into a culture based on hedonism and instant gratification? And there I am again - over-thinking things.
I know that I have bad days, and that I have good ones. Maybe a good beginning for this pursuit of long term happiness is this: my goal for the next week or so should be to have the good days outnumber the bad. Even if the ratio is 4-3 (per week) that is at least a step in the right direction, and hopefully will translate to a greater state of happiness over time.
This week has been too much. The fact that everyone thinks I'm on the verge of suicide is certainly a contributing factor, as well as the monotony I face being in this oppressive collegiate environment. I feel as if my creative spirit is being stifled by merely being here. I am accomplishing nothing. Everything I am doing now is inspired by some selfish desire for a better future for myself. But I am nothing. A speck of dust. Some protrusion in the space-time continuum with very little relevance to anything outside of my microcosm. A scratch on the dusty record of time, but nothing else.
When I start thinking with this nihilistic world view, I begin to worry a bit. I wish I had some God to keep me grounded, to help me believe that everything has significance. But I can't believe in old Jesus H. even if I wanted to. Unlike most modern atheists, proud of their grand defiance, and eager to flaunt their "higher intelligence" in the face of the devout, I view my atheism as a curse. That's what it really is; there is nothing to brag about. Egotistical white males who project this confidence in the philosophy that their existence means nothing are foolish. People are not fooled by their carelessly constructed illusion. No one is okay with that belief; it goes against the core structure of human thought to enjoy the belief that you are insignificant.
So here's to another Friday of insignificance. The Vermont chill soaks through my skin; I wish I had decided on something more substantial than a t-shirt with a scarf thrown over it. Sipping bitter coffee does little to jar me into a waking state. I am still detached and half asleep with a lethargic mind.
How do I fix this emptiness? Although I do not believe in my significance on a macroscopic scale, I refuse to add to the pointlessness of human life by approaching it lackadaisically. Being empty, or believing in nothing does not make you "edgy" or "cool". And it is not something marked only by teenage years. (Attributing nihilism or existential crises to hormones is the adult worlds way of delegitimizing the emotions of the young and trying to force them into their preconceived molds of teenage mediocrity.) Like any problem I am presented with, my dissatisfaction with my existence is something that I need to fix.
I cannot count how many times over the past two weeks I have had the words, "What do you want?" thrown in my direction, emphasis on different words or syllables depending on who was doing the asking. I abhor the question. I don't know. I don't know. STOP ASKING ME QUESTIONS I DON'T KNOW THE ANSWER TO. "I have no idea. I guess I'll figure it out." Calm. Anxiety bubbles beneath the surface as I force my body to reflect definitive confidence. Confident in my ignorance of what I want... what a wonderfully stupid thing to fake.
Everyone around me is right. I cannot be happy until I know what I want. But everything I want seems so distant and unattainable that when presented with the question, my mind freezes up and my instinct is to revert to false confidence, a talent the boarding school crowd is quite familiar with. "I want to be happy," is an almost acceptable answer, but then the follow-up question to that response is almost worse than, "What do you want?"
The things that make me happy seem so few. I like writing on a morning, I like literature, science, figuring out a difficult problem, sitting at breakfast for hours, people watching during lectures, seeing beautiful photographs, the feeling of finishing something overwhelming. I like certain things about people that surround me. I like the way my roommate deals with my tendency to hide my feelings, I like people with giant flaws, emotional frigidity, blue eyes, gentle souls, and poetic minds. I love the things people are embarrassed or self-conscious about. All of these things make me happy in a temporary sense. But how do I translate that into something permanent? What are long term things that make me happy?
Maybe I think too much. Maybe the solution to my problem is to just do what makes me happy in the moment and let the long run fall into place. But how do I know that this train of thought is not a representation of my brainwashing into a culture based on hedonism and instant gratification? And there I am again - over-thinking things.
I know that I have bad days, and that I have good ones. Maybe a good beginning for this pursuit of long term happiness is this: my goal for the next week or so should be to have the good days outnumber the bad. Even if the ratio is 4-3 (per week) that is at least a step in the right direction, and hopefully will translate to a greater state of happiness over time.
No comments:
Post a Comment