Wednesday, March 11, 2009

The Earth Is Not a Cold, Dead Place

I am here, in this reality, even if it is just my own. It is mine. I have nothing else; we all have nothing, save our own sense of reality.

I have that coiling urge to strike against my own untruth and my feeling of displacement, because the emptiness makes me feel as though I've lost my own sense of time. There are always those breaking points, and I never waste them.

Every facet of the world is both unimportant and paramount, but outside of me at the same time. And even though it usually feels monolithic in that towering, overcast way, my own life is on another level entirely.

The hardest thing for anyone who deals with any kind of addiction is trying to find a certain kind of neurosis. The feeling of laser precision that comes with the more introspective and introverted drugs is a very powerful motivator, in terms of self-discovery. But outside of alteration, my reality usually slams into a wall before it can be honed in any way at all. It makes me feel useless because of that. It makes me feel like I am impotent in any real capacity.

But the wealth underneath that is larger than anything else I've ever seen in life, and the longer I'm alive, the more profound I realize it is. I never felt all that grateful for being alive, but I do now. And even though I feel the same inadequacies most of the time, I feel like I've charged myself with my most important purposes and suffered my most significant trials without hesitation or blindness. I am never blind when it comes to myself, even though I am usually delusional.

I love myself. That is a strong phrase; stronger than most would understand. To say so casually that you owe it to yourself to find yourself is such an understatement to being alive. The sheer weight of impact in art is the only thing that has ever made me feel alive, and it is a practice of solitude. Pure solitude. No feigning, no compromise, no dissonance, no capitulation, no falsity. No deception whatsoever.

As much as I ever hope that I will find meaning and love around me or in another person doesn't matter at all anymore. I value it the same, and need it th e same, but I need myself more.

Of all the things that I write down to remind myself of how important my mind is, this is the greatest statement of self-trust. There are such dark recesses within me that will never see the light of recognition, because of their depth alone. People can't handle those kinds of truths, and will always be offended by their visceral nature. That is one thing that has always saddened me.

But it's all so beautiful; life itself is the ugly beauty of being Human. I can never compromise that, and to do so is to cease being alive and Human.

The greatest thing I have ever learned is how to embarrass myself through complete honesty. It is so hard to do, which is ironic and pathetic. To simply be honest is ridiculously hard. I never understood that.

And the day I quit is the day I die. These feelings are where God truly lives; I cannot handle letting myself down by neglecting them.

I wish others would feel that same inclination, even if only to reassure me that it is as important as I think it is....

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