“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that’s crap. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they’re wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you’re letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.”
Feel, baby, feel. What a week. I cannot complain about many things not going according to plan, as many of the good things in my life were far from planned or expected. However, that’s just it. However.
And so here we are; in this moment, everything is at a perfect level of balance. Right is wrong. Wrong is right. Left is right. Right is correct. Who are we? What are we here for? Is our existence our warrant to be? What is going on? What’s normal? What’s success? What’s failure? Who am I?
“What is going on?” I tend to ask. Oftentimes, I do not know the answer. However, what I do know is that I am not happy with the state of things. When all of the fluff and prestige is stripped away, there is nothing left but a broken soul, desperately trying to find his way in this muck of a life. In between the mountains of empty coffee cups – hugged with environmentally-friendly heat sleeves – and the clouds of hookah smoke, whisked away with a road-hugging 3.0 liter 6 cylinder engine, is a nagging question, driven by a mind that just won’t shut up. Who am I? What is going on?
Are we meant to be patient observers of this life, or active participants who do their best to make something of what they have been given? Does it really matter if we exist or just live? What is is that defines us? Is there anything that defines me? What do I want?
In between all of the going, running, and endless meetings, what is it that I am looking for? Am I merely looking for an escape from the reality that is my being?
At the end of the day, what do I know? Part of me believes I have been placed here on earth for the completion and execution of some great purpose. But, what if that’s nothing more than a facade?
What if I am nothing more than a well-polished 22 year-old who knows how to properly tie a tie and look like a businessman? What if there is nothing more than image behind my outward appearance?
When I really think about all of these things, I wonder what it is that I bring to the table of anything. Other than an above-average vocabulary, I do not feel that my intelligence is well placed or utilized; it does not make money except for those around me, oftentimes passing myself. I’ve passed along tens of thousands of dollars to others. When will it be my turn? When will I actually do something that will earn a dollar, or a million? Will this day ever come?
This is not a depressing entry. Nor is it written from a mind that is unclear. Rather, it is written from the clearest state of being that I’ve been in for quite some time. It’s the realization that at the end of the day, there is nothing to boast about. I have no accomplishments to carry on my shoulder, nobody to share them with if I did, and nothing substantial to present the world with other than an attractive burden that many feel the urge to carry.
Wake up, Plaat. It’s time to make something of yourself.
Success is like a pearl; you have to hold onto something ugly and develop it, over time, into something of value.
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