What is life? Is it the impressions we leave on others or the world? Is it the impact we make? Is it nothing more than the ability to take in a breath? What is life? Am I wasting mine?
So sometimes I get bored on the train. Then this happens.
I live very close to a campsite, in quite a scenic location. So that means everyday there are lots of strangers walking along the roads around my house. Today like most other days I brought my dog for a walk. No matter what, I always try to say hi or hello to the people I meet, whether I know them or not. I’m always amazed by their reactions. Some will look away instantly and outright ignore my greeting. I can only assume that they’ve realized, yes I am a teenager and as such I’m clearly going to mug them. Others will return the greeting but their eyes glare at me, warning me not to pursue any further conversation. The rest all try, with varying degrees of success, to mask their surprise at the greeting. They then reply in kind before promptly walking past.
It’s kind of horrible to think that we as a society are terrified of talking to strangers. How long before we start to favor isolation over any form of communication?
I often wonder…
I often wonder, when people see me what do they think. I am not paranoid, nor will I live for the opinions of others. But still, I find myself wondering.
What do my parents see when they look at me? When I talk to friends, what do they hear in my words? When I console someone in need, what do they see in my eyes. If I scream and shout at someone when they try to insult me, is it annoyance or admiration they feel? As strangers catch site of me, do they see a reckless youth or something else? When I talk to someone over the internet, do they believe my words or write them off as senseless flattery?
At night before I sleep this is what constantly plays through my head. What were they thinking? Why was that said? How did they feel?
In the end I’ll never know. But even if I did, it wouldn’t change anything. I am me, I have my own morals, ideals and beliefs. Nothing will ever change that. I will not allow anything or anyone to change me.
I hate all the silence.
The non texting silence, the non talking silence, the non writing silence, the non reading silence, the non watching tv silence, the non gaming silence.
In the silence all I hear are my thoughts.
Don’t let the silence do the talking.
My mind is my sanctuary, my sanctuary is crumbling.
“Yes I am, so what’s the solution.”
“Time I’m afraid.”
Wasn’t intended to cause harm but has sent my mind on a roller coaster. This year has indeed been a horrible mix of stress and emotion. But those few words, I haven’t been able to remove them from my thoughts since I first read them and my stomach lurched. So, I decided to return to a home of my childhood, my grandmothers house where I essentially lived between the ages of 7 and 9 until my granny died of cancer.
I don’t like going back because while everything is the same in one sense, it’s also changed as well. It’s complicated but as I walk along the canal to the building itself, it’s like I’m a child again. One of the few instances in which i feel like a child, but just as distressing and unfortunately a sensation that is becoming frequent in recent days.
Everything at my granny’s house has been torn asunder and re-purposed. Her gardens are now car parks. The forest where I used to play with my cousins is uprooted. Her home is now an office. But most irritating of all is that her monument was torn from the ground and hurled into the earth behind her former house.
By this point I was feeling no better, and with no one to talk to I was resigned to return home. To the books, the boredom and lets face the loneliness. But then a voice in my head quite literally said “FUCK IT!” and I went for a jog instead. Tearing through the woods and just trying to lose all of this emotional baggage among the trees.
Of course I couldn’t. All the woods did was remind me how simple life used to be. When I could climb trees all day in complete solitude and feel absolutely nothing. Least of all lonely. But I pressed on with my jog because I really can’t care about school anymore, or perhaps just right now. It’s too much stress. These last exams are like leaping across a ravine. The fall wont kill me if I don’t reach the other side, but then I have to start climbing all over again, right from the beginning. Considering the first climb has quite literally pushed me to my extremes I can’t do it again. I never really let anyone know how far I’ve been pushed, how many times I wanted to let go and fall. How, I almost did fall.
So I pushed on with the jogging, and ran from more of my problems. My problems, they’re so minute in the grand scheme of things. I really shouldn’t dedicate a blog to them, but I do all the same, because hey lets face it I’m desperate for attention. He pointed that out, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget that. Why am I bringing that up now? I’ve no idea, but I guess my tendency to bottle things up forces me to deal with issues at later dates for no apparent reason.
Upon passing this tree I soon became oxygen deprived. Left gasping for air, hunched over, as my lungs burned. Thus my mind and thoughts returned and I quickly realized something. The solution to my unhappiness was not nearly as illusive as the solution to loneliness. But it was just as irritating. In essence the quest for my happiness is a paradox. In order to achieve happiness I must pass through a wave of nauseating unhappiness. I stuck my toe into that pool of sorrow, I don’t feel like trying to swim through it. Thus I’m stuck here in limbo, until stress forces me somewhere worse.
So that’s my refrain, I live in hell, because they pulled me out of heaven.
By the time I reached the top of the hill in the above picture, I was drained. Physically and emotionally. It did however dawn on me. No one cares. People were much happier when I bottled up my own problems. This is evident by the fact that precious few choose to talk to me now that I no longer deal with their problems but seek advice for my own. No contact from my “friends”, from my friends or from my family. I always have to make the first move. i sometimes wonder. If I made no contact would anyone search for me. Would a single soul send me a text. Does anyone but strangers care?
I could write for days on this but I’m home now and it’s time for dinner. No doubt I will return to this topic once more before long.