I suppose it's all very complicated. I think something, and then I wonder why I thought it in the first place. Disturbingly, I often find that even after the soul-searching, I can't often find a central reason. Instead, there's only a huge amorphous mass of whys and why-nots. Understandably, this is because I am only human, but I never like to think about myself in that way. To say that I'm 'only human' means to surrender myself over to the passing of time, the inevitability of death-something which I am incredibly unwilling to do, or likely ever to accept.
So instead, I just live whilst ignoring the chaos, running around trying to ignore the discomfort I find in the world, and its apparent randomness. But sometimes I think about it, and how the order of the universe is a fiction, and I get plunged back into that world of thought.
"And we are here, as on a darkling plain/Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight/Where ignorant armies clash by night."
No poem has stuck with me more than that one. It hooked onto my mindset and never left.
Gauntlets28 Gauntlets28
18-21, M
Aug 30, 2014