Thursday, June 08, 2006
Being Me (I)
For the longest time I have been wondering when madness shall finally devour my sanity or whether depression will eventually set in. I feel that if one think too much, he will either attain philosophical enlightenment or pure insanity.
I think: Of things I know I should not be worrying or brooding over too much about.
I feel: Helpless that I can never be the person I think I ought to be.
For the things that I have done and I am doing I feel depraved but everytime it always only hit me when it is all over and done with. Perhaps I am too depraved, such that I do not feel guilt in any substantial amount. Ain't I just being wasted away? It is degrading and degenerating, although quite apart from the fact that all humans do pass on and degrade and degenerate (just in an entirely different sense).
My mind strays aimlessly, not knowing what to think about. Just constant blankness. An air of melancholy lingers, albeit faintly, making it difficult to catch hold of it; impossible to find out where it came from. I go about daily with what I have to do. But I only wonder at the quiet moments: Why I am even here on this planet, in this realm (if supernature exists)? Is this a crisis of self-identification or spiritual awakening (referred: Ian)?
It is this prolonged reflections of queries that has fueled the onset of frustrations and moodiness. I fear ageing wrinkles will develop faster from this onset of emotional outbreak and I will lose my footing, leading to dire repercussions.
I can see this has become a vicious cycle for me. To think again is to fuel more worries and I will think even more. I should turn in. My stomach is grumbling. I wonder if I should work out tomorrow. I do not want my muscles to turn flabby...
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