Floating

Creating obstacles: our most human instinct

To create a sense of oppression. To conjure something I must overcome is my most deeply human instinct. To deny the feeling of infinite free fall, a floundering in empty space, is a necessity. The reality of my near non-existence, how distant I am from the soul of the world, is too large an oppressor to recognize and overcome. So I must invent boundaries and small monsters to kill. I must design my own obstacles. I see them everywhere. In all things human. I recognize some as pathetic and transparent attempts at garnering achievement, and some very real sources of despair, but I am unable to condemn any of them. I see the pantheon of human emotion laid out before me in a single point. Collected into one attempt at denial.

With this realization I find that I am unable to create these boundaries. They have become glass, incapable of fulfilling their purpose. I have no list of achievements, no desire to overcome. I only have the insatiable appetite of doing. I must occupy myself for the duration of my freefall. I have spent time grasping for wisps, reflections of naivety. I have attempted on many occasions to write things of inspiration and wonderment, but I am halted every time. Unable to complete the tale, unable to cover the scent of my despair. But most times it does not feel like despair. I only use this word because I have no other way of describing it. I have no death-wish, for this is me, but I will not grovel for years tacked onto the end of a dead life.

I am inclined to use the word “emptiness” but my upbringing comes screaming back from my subconscious upon the use of that word. I see my mother telling me that this emptiness can be filled, my despair can be cured only with acceptance of a savior. But I cannot coax the child back out of my soul. I do not believe that something as convenient as this exists, it is only another method. I feel as though I should not have access to these thoughts. They should only be glimpsed by older souls waiting for death. But I am uncertain of my naivety. Uncertain that I am naïve, that other realizations will prove larger. This is the most painful thing I have written. It hurts me to recognize this. To open the shutter completely and feel the devilishly searing heat of my existence. I only hope that in moments of true connection and beauty I am able to forget this, for those moments are rare and precious.

Reviews

[Morgan Storms]

My mind is blown. This is fantastic, well written and I think that many people, including myself can totally relate. We can be our own prisoners, in our own minds, in our own life, but we can also be our own liberation. :) Smart people think, creative people think and we, as your words above go through this because we are in our heads a lot, we have a consciousness that is open and we see from the outside looking in many times.
Anyhow, I really think this is a great read, it is powerful and truthful, and that makes it great. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.