(wrote this piece, don’t-kow-when. Found this pretty intriguing. The fact that it’s incomplete does tickle my brow though.)
Days of ceased motivation and lack of routine, desperately searching for whether I’m the only one aware of the acute reason why life fails to engage me any longer, have not done me good. I it-doesn’t-even-matter through so many points in my life, and admittedly too, in situations where one shouldn’t have. But instead of moralising the purpose of a human being and satisfying myself with stupid reasons like: “purpose? Why I ought to be a good citizen!” Or “why, I must clear that exam and get that job and keep doing that thing everyone else is clearly programmed to do”. I believed I couldn’t live the way the world “wants” me to, I simply couldn’t. I believed I was meant for greater pursuits. Intricate secrets to life that cautiously slipped through everyone else’s life, had become clear to me and now I could change the world. As EM Cieran puts it,
it wasn’t my mistake to think I was unique, I erred when I believed I was important.
If I might so make another one of his quotations secretly, I started learning from people. When in fact I should’ve learnt that nature is in sole control of its own doubts.
But instead of reliving my introspects and regretting anything, I’m happy I atleast had the conscience, and the courage to walk in this alien land, demanding a ‘why' to all of this. I’m happy that I stumbled — and maybe for longer — that I didn’t fall prey to biases and found my own answers. And do I have answers? Yes, I’ve learnt the only answer: that there is none.
A whole lot many people profess and propagate a whole lot many ideas (people just love to speak, don’t they?), the majority largely unoriginal. You must learn to look past all these life advices. They’re more cruddy than how I believed life itself to be. Everyone might have a story to tell, but till how long will you be wound up in the enigmas of third person realities, how long do you wish to partially live? The only thing I can be extra sure of, in my ventures of truth is:
Abandon people, embrace nature.
People are cruddy, I still can’t let go of my theory that everyone is wholly unoriginal. But I don’t walk on paths carved by previous feet. I curate worlds that none can see, for eyes don’t really glance at nature’s secrets. (See, it’s empty pretentious stuff like this that yearns me to make more of myself than there is.)
Maybe one day I’ll meet people richer in thoughts, and not in ambience so I’ll learn to disregard that theory as well, but for now, It’d be stupid to not explore and admire everything else nature wants to throw at my feet.
I could brood in my room all day, sighing over the fact that I’ve discovered the alternate reality that there is none: googling
