To Survive

I’m going to write a lot and who knows if anyone will read it. Who knows if anyone will care. Who knows if it will matter.  < M A T T E R > Who even knows what that means? Who knows what it means for something to matter. Some people tell me that everything matters, that everything will resonate into eternity. Everything has ripples. Live deliberately, live sincerely, live intentionally. What they don’t say is that this will also probably be living anxiously, living cautiously…a timid tiptoe in a fragile existence. A floor of eggshells in a city of cards. Other people tell me that nothing matters, that life is absurd. And not in the light, comical way. In the deeply meaningless way. In the way that causes an unending uneasiness of the soul. In a way that eats away, that doubts, that nags. In the way of cynics.

We live in fear. Fear that everything matters and fear that nothing matters. Fear of our own fear and what it is doing to us and not allowing us to do.

. . .

What happens when my dreams become more real than reality? Does reality become the dream? What does it mean to be awake? To be alive? To be?

My mind is connected to my body, they say. My body exists in this world, they say. That used to feel true. But the connections are dissolving, decaying. At first, it was terrifying. What is happening? How can I even describe this to the people around me?

I feel “fuzzy”.

What does that even mean?

Well… it’s like feeling “foggy”.

Umm…still not super clear.

Uhh….disconnected, I guess.

Have you been seeing your counselor? Are you taking the medication?

Yes…I am….……. So the weather these days…pretty cold, huh?

If I didn’t give up, if I tried to explain further, if I renounced the belief that my existence is a continual burden on those around me….what would I say? Are there any words that can more accurately explain?

It’s like my brain is in my skull but my head is filled with smoke…not steam, but smoke…a heavy smoke. And when I am trying to follow a thread of thought it occasionally gets lost and I can’t grab onto it again. And then like a fly I hit the window again and again and again and again. I can see there is something beyond….I know the sun is out there, reality is real….I know it. I used to see it, to smell it, to get burnt by it. I stubbed my toe on it once. But something trapped me here. Something gradual, yet rapid. It’s been two years since I noticed a cord snagged me. Since I saw the first window installed. I fought desperately for a while. Clawed, begged, pleaded, searched, ached. But nobody understood and nobody had answers. Within or without. Nobody connected with what I was expressing because I wasn’t speaking their language: they couldn’t relate, understand, empathize, imagine. I fought alone. Yet, my body and the world persisted in begging for my energy and my time, so in quiet defeat I left the fight. Left the weapons but kept the armor. Instead, I advanced society (through autocad files of residential botox), nine to fived, passed classes, ate, slept, existed. I had friends, I was social, I laughed, I interacted, I connected. Well…part of me, that is. This other part lay entangled, gagged, dormant, protected. But we do what we have to do to survive. Even if it’s a lie.

To Survive

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