Yukon
I don't know what it's like to be in war and i don't really know what it's like to be in true pain. I guess i don't even know what it means to be hungry. I haven't had my home destroyed by a tsunami or a mudslide or a freak earthquake. Most people have felt at least one of these things. In this absence of experience I am certainly a minority, and I don't know where that puts me. Am I important for not having felt this? am i sheltered? Does who I am really matter even? Do I exist?
And perhaps, the most important question:
Is it bad that I have to wear sunglasses when using the computer?
Why do I ask all these questions of myself? I don't really understand anything anymore and I don't have the time or energy to figure out what it all means. There was a JSA (Junior State of America) event at Anacapa School tonight. We saw Control Room, the movie about the war in Iraq from the viewpoint of al Jazeera. It was vaguely interesting, vaguely depressing, but its primary purpose was to expose the bias of any news cover of any event, and we decided that it was impossible to show all the angles of an issue without granting omniscience.
Everything can feel so hopeless sometimes. Have you ever gotten that feeling where it all simply doesn't seem worth it? All the stress of everyday life, all the pain in the world, all the treachery of the future. I get that so much, especially now. I don't really know why.
I used to think about ending it when I got that feeling. Not suicide, but just ceasing to exist. You know, you can't do that. You can't make yourself stop existing. At least, I couldn't. But I also couldn't shake the feeling that I simply wasn't trying hard enough. I don't think that anymore. It's sort of evolved.
I have a picture in my head of a place. I don't know where the place is; I doubt it even exists. But in this place there is a forest surrounding a field of green grass. It is overcast and rainy, and the field has soft rolling hills on it. It's about a square mile in area. And in a slightly off-center hill there is a small brick cottage with smoke gently steaming from the chimney. The forest is forever and the rain is forever and nothing else in the world exists except the mountains and the shore of the lake. The lake is infinite and the mountains are infinite.
I know this place does not exist. It is folly maybe to even fantasize about such a place. It is thoughtcrime. But this is nirvana to me, and maybe it's only my heaven, maybe it's somebody else's hell. I dream of this place all the time- when I get my failing grade in math, when people give me that look that simply says "What a freak...", when the world just isn't a friendly place.
I want to escape to my fantasy world so badly it hurts. I want to sit in my cottage and draw flourishes and alphabets and learn and know and explore and live the way I want to live, and to die the way I want to die. I want to hide from people but I want to be recognized. I'm so sick of these contrasts.
And perhaps, the most important question:
Is it bad that I have to wear sunglasses when using the computer?
Why do I ask all these questions of myself? I don't really understand anything anymore and I don't have the time or energy to figure out what it all means. There was a JSA (Junior State of America) event at Anacapa School tonight. We saw Control Room, the movie about the war in Iraq from the viewpoint of al Jazeera. It was vaguely interesting, vaguely depressing, but its primary purpose was to expose the bias of any news cover of any event, and we decided that it was impossible to show all the angles of an issue without granting omniscience.
Everything can feel so hopeless sometimes. Have you ever gotten that feeling where it all simply doesn't seem worth it? All the stress of everyday life, all the pain in the world, all the treachery of the future. I get that so much, especially now. I don't really know why.
I used to think about ending it when I got that feeling. Not suicide, but just ceasing to exist. You know, you can't do that. You can't make yourself stop existing. At least, I couldn't. But I also couldn't shake the feeling that I simply wasn't trying hard enough. I don't think that anymore. It's sort of evolved.
I have a picture in my head of a place. I don't know where the place is; I doubt it even exists. But in this place there is a forest surrounding a field of green grass. It is overcast and rainy, and the field has soft rolling hills on it. It's about a square mile in area. And in a slightly off-center hill there is a small brick cottage with smoke gently steaming from the chimney. The forest is forever and the rain is forever and nothing else in the world exists except the mountains and the shore of the lake. The lake is infinite and the mountains are infinite.
I know this place does not exist. It is folly maybe to even fantasize about such a place. It is thoughtcrime. But this is nirvana to me, and maybe it's only my heaven, maybe it's somebody else's hell. I dream of this place all the time- when I get my failing grade in math, when people give me that look that simply says "What a freak...", when the world just isn't a friendly place.
I want to escape to my fantasy world so badly it hurts. I want to sit in my cottage and draw flourishes and alphabets and learn and know and explore and live the way I want to live, and to die the way I want to die. I want to hide from people but I want to be recognized. I'm so sick of these contrasts.
posted by Aermethys at 1:00 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home