I write for myself

Uncertain's picture

I don't want sympathy. I just want to write. I write for myself.

Sometimes I feel there are so many people around me but we aren't people. We are just variables in a world full of formulas and equations, and we all fitted in and completed each function. But before we achieved that teleological end, that truism, we have already been reduced to something less, an imprint of something we were, someone we might be, someone we ought to be. We're a shadow, soulless and lesser than its maker.

Fuck, I don't know. I feel like I should be happy. I want to be happy. In fact, most of the time I believe I am happy. Except, at times, I slip up, I let my guard down, and these feelings start to itch back into my skin, without me noticing. Then, bam! They're gone, then I feel empty - not sad / not happy - just empty. I'd feel like I could pinpoint the feeling, flesh it out into words, reify it into reality, before it slips through the cracks (although I don't know why I want to objectify despair and frustration) but then it disappears - but even so I'm nowhere closer to redemption. I have learnt nothing. I have merely escaped a bullet in the silly game of life; near-death experience; then amnesia.

I have so many things to do. I have so many people I can go to. I can talk to. Yet I feel alone. (who-is-my-family). No one is an island, no one is an island. But what if I want to be an island? A self imposed exile - wanting people to visit, to rescue, to discover me - but before all that can happen I have to be alone... before all that, I have to be lost. I have to wander to be found.

I have this impossibility opening up to people. Sometimes I just... withdraw away. I got invited out tonight but I decided to stay at home. I stress over trivial things like my commitments and grades. Trivial in the sense that everything is meaningless, people only project meaning onto arbitrary things. The german play is stressing me out, I have three tests coming up, I am adjudicating around 25 debates this week for a national tournament (I already adjudicated 5 today).... knowledge... even praxis - action... it's so meaningless. Is it an end in itself? Is it about utility then? Is it about power? I know so much, I learn so much - yet all I realise is it all doesn't matter and I just know less and less. And why the fuck does it matter whether I win or lose or learn about all these rights and welfare issues anyway? Philosophy... politics... law... my conjoint degree... my majors... the languages I know - what's it all good for?

I sit here in my bed writing this. I have to wake up at 8 tomorrow - then another five debates to judge - then an assignment to write - then lines to remember - to act (it's all an act). I take my supplments like my body matters. The body - the vessel with the things it carries - what does it carry... the body is too fragile... wash my face (exfoliate, moisturise). This is going nowhere. This isn't making me feel better, but at least I've carved out the intangible, made my feelings more real - made me more of a person - an experiencing individual.


Ambition15's picture


You are an amazing writer...take some time to get on meds, find a group o friends- it helps.

"First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they attack you, then you win." -M. Gandhi

hellonwheels's picture

that was a great piece, max...

I really liked it. Also, I think you should read a book I recently read by a zen Buddist called bearing witness....in it, the author talks about "unknowing" and that the moment we start to "know" something over someone else, we start to prove just how ignorant of that opinion or thing that we really are. I think you would enjoy it, if you had time. the author is bernie glassman. It made an impact on my day to day life, maybe it will on yours.


Mental wounds not healing, driving me insane, i'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train- the ozzman