Wednesday, July 11, 2012

greatest hits

There are times in a your life when you're simply unsure of everything: everything you've done, are doing, or will ever do. Whether it's an existential crisis, a cry for attention, or simply a curse of being too well read is ambiguous and ultimately unimportant. It's a feeling you can't blow off and can only be pushed to the back of your mind with the help of a few drinks, but which will return with a vengeance when you're laying in bed hungover and alone the next morning. It's something indescribable that has no name and really can't be understood or "thought through." Only with time will it wither away: a slow, and oftentimes painful process. I exist here. Everything's moving quickly, at my own will, busying myself with an endless agenda to hopefully arrive at a higher ground, whatever that looks like. I'm lost in my own head with thoughts about the direction in which I want to steer my life. I've plotted myself at a metaphorical crossroads where I must choose how I want to spend my early 20's; uncertainty is the bane of my existence. I'm unsure of even the most basic things, about what I'm looking for in life. Nothing seems to satiate the stubborn, unyielding sensation of attaining something, anything to be happy. Essentially, I'm driving myself insane with the urgency to make decisions that I believe will make it or break it, change my life for better or for worse.

Paradoxically, I know exactly what I'm doing.  I'm in a good place, and I have the utility to do whatever I want. I'm intelligent, reasonably attractive, funny when I want to be, sassy as hell, comfortable with who I am. And I'm young. Maybe I'd rather be lost. Maybe I enjoy not knowing. We all do. I tell myself I do. But do I? 

Problem is this independence is crippling. For the first time I'm actually on my own, and alone is unsettling. I want to be reckless, but I want to be safe at the same time. I suppose this is all part of "growing up", but fuck is it hard. A crutch is a short term solution, one that sounds insanely attractive, but a man shouldn't and can't solve my problems.............right?

The other day I was trying to think of when I'm happiest. The best I could come up with is when I'm surrounded by people whose company I truly enjoy, when I can be myself and speak my mind and not feel insecure or stupid for thinking the things that I do. Those are the brief moments when I feel complete and uninhibited euphoria, but how to contain them and stretch them out is life's greatest, and most beleaguering task. I don't need to be happy right now (I suppose it's good for artistic expression?), but what else is there to life besides achieving your nirvana? Will someone just tell me if this pit in my stomach is what they call "drive"...or if it's depression? Reveal the punchline to me already. I don't want to figure it out for myself. What's the reward for toiling until the end? What's the payoff? I don't want everything to just be a means to the end, but tell me if it is.

I want to feel exhilarated, to turn all of this into motivation, but hey, easier said than done.