Wednesday, 24 August 2011
No mister smart ass today. I’ll be completely transparent.
The main question these days – who the fuck am I? The identity crisis in its heyday. I’m tired of myself. Frankly speaking I can’t stand myself at all. I wish I could just step out of this body and mind, and be someone else. I believe I’m in the transition right now and it gives me some comfort, but still the frustration is there.
Sometimes I think, what if I could go back in time, when I was 18. Would I make other choices? First of all I would know the value of one-pointed focus. If I started then, I could be so good in something by now. Good in what? I would definitely go into arts. That was my thing from the very beginning. I was just confused.
I don’t want to be a moaner. I would like to take some practical steps, but I’m in the dark here. Without a guide, without support, without someone who would believe in me, who would see in me the things I’m trying to see myself – the artist, seeker, creative, sensitive person. Instead, I’m alone, without direction, without vision, with the indifferent, cold world out there.
I know that I will be able to get the pieces together just by myself, but I’m pissed off that I have to do it alone, struggle, waste time, go around in circles.
I wish I could meet someone who went trough all these, who has an artist inside, spirituality, who is more mature then me, more serious, experienced, but also chilled out, with great sense of humour. I so fucking miss good company.
In some sense I’m proud of being a person deep enough to have this kind of tribulations. But on the other hand I’m just not happy with myself. I’m sick of my total inadequacy, flaws and constant need of other people – like a child who always seeks to be defined by others. I’ve had enough of that crap. But also I understand where it comes from – out of piercing loneliness. Hence the neediness, clinginess.
I have all these things inside I wanna share, but there is nobody who gets me. And I have this hunger to get into others' minds, to drink their thoughts, feelings and ideas. But it feels like the people who surround me, they live in other dimension – in the world which doesn’t interest me, world of the flat conversations, shallow interests, imitations. Where the fuck are the other people? The folks full of the storms, dilemmas, creative fire, fresh, personal vision and hunger for fullness?Are they dead already? Died 100 years ago?
I used to pray for a peace – I mean inner peace, not the peace in the world:). I was completely honest about that. But now I don’t care that much. Life is always going to be a mess, there is no peace, just an eternal movement, flow. Now I miss people. My people. So we could talk until morning, come up with creative ideas, share our souls, get drunk, get sober, cycle around without purpose, have no secrets, make love (or however you call that thing friends do), grow together, expand…
Yeap. So that’s what those guys meant, when they wrote about the existential crisis. It looked so much better in books.
Labels: friends and strangers