Life doesn’t feel linear to me. There’s always something big I was working toward “yesterday.” But my goals don’t stay the same long enough to see anything through. I get too good at things and they suddenly bore me; or, I suck at them for too long and the daunting task of improving overwhelms me, so instead of working at it I swear off the whole activity as pointless and lame. Whatever the outcome, the person I am “today” never cares. He just scoffs at yesterday’s efforts as futile.
I have a Word document that’s 268 pages long. It contains all my half-written blog entries from my change-the-world phase. I’d get a thought in my head that I’d think was brilliant, and then I’d start typing it all out. But as I was writing I’d gradually start to lose my interest in it.
Now I’m sort of afraid to go back and read all these unfinished thoughts. Inside those pages lies an answer I don’t want to know. It’s been long enough now that reading them will be almost like reading something new for the first time. If I’m not as wowed by my words as I was while I wrote them, it will tell me something useful—that all that time I thought I was saying something, I was really saying nothing at all. It’s just noise now; just nonsensical words, from a self-important, self-absorbed person who lacked the ability to assess himself accurately.
I’m entering a new phase in my life. Things are different again. As usual I don’t know what I want, or maybe this time I just want nothing. That’s not it; I want something…
I want to believe the “happiness” I choose to pursue in life, can actually make me happy. Otherwise, what is the point, really? Wake up just to avoid sleeping all day? No.
I want to believe in what I’m doing again—even if what I’m doing is truly pointless as hell. I can still hear the keyboard tapping away, blank chatter in the dark night silence, when I could have been living or loving, or at least working.
I click close. No regrets here.
Nicely put.