Redux.

ENDLESS
by ジョージ @Pixiv

The lowest point in life is when you wish you were somebody else.
long post ahead.
Because that's the point where you think: "My life is the worst" without having to say, "I want to kill myself" out loud.
Because that's the point where you're so desperate to find something. When you feel the most lost.

And constantly,

I feel this way.

Today, well literally, today it's the last day to write all your tests, hand in all your coursework, and be done with this semester. A... little piece of high school, behind you.

And today, right now, it's 8:08 a.m., and I'm supposed to be on my way to finish this piece of high school.

But I'm not.

I realized last night, in my insomnia, that being like this at this age (read: teenager) is all about the angst. All about how we talk and talk and talk, and don't do any shit. We vent and ignore our problems. So what's the bigger problem? What's the problem with all of us?

For a lot of us, we're like warriors from centuries ago.

What's a warrior without a war?
What's a warrior without a sword?
What's a warrior without a sword and without a war to fight?
Nothing.

Because I realize how much bullshit they (read: teachers and general society) teach us. Like in social, they think showing us dying people and mass murders is going to help us realize we want to save people. Like in math, they think showing us great numbers and sometimes absolute nonsense is going to help us get through life. Like in English, they think making us read about a dead man's fake story (read: Shakespeare) will enlighten us on our ways of life, and maybe spur us to create our own masterpiece genius' to help us change the world with our concept of life. And finally, like in science, they think making us understand how the world works from a bug's perspective will make us understand:
why we're here. Why we were born. Why we exist.

And for some, yes, they find meaning and everything good and wholesome in these things.

For many of us, we don't.

I remember at one point, I was sure. I knew what I had been made for.
I wanted to become a writer.
Create worlds with my words, and slap life concepts at people's faces with the gum stuck on the bottom of my shoe.
But as I grew older, I lost that passion. I lost that fascination. I lost meaning.

I wanted to become somebody else.

And like a bitter old woman who lost her family and ended up alone:
Like a warrior without a war or a sword:
I felt lost, like something was missing.

The irony of that statement is that, I have family.
A mother, a father, a brother.
More family would include: two sisters, a niece and a nephew, a half-brother.
Familial ties not related by blood: Sora, Nina, at one point, two mothers, a grandmother, and a few brothers.

I have the tools.
A pen and paper is all I need.

But there's this gaping hole in my life.
And no matter how much I try to fill in that hole with what I did before, that empty space becomes bigger and bigger as I get older.
My life is my work. Without a life, I can't create masterpieces, can't create a soul on paper.

I don't know how to make friends. I don't know what it's like to be in a club. To knit. To start conversations.
To fall in love.
To be reckless.
To have money all the time.
To be loved.

I'm a big, empty space.

So I want to be somebody else. To find all these meanings. To find the true definition of what being loved and to love is like. To find everything and anything to fill me in.
Then write about it. Write about these souls. These emotions that make people alive.

Because really, I'm not really living.

And talking about how I'm not living (because I don't have dreams or talents, or aspirations, or even an ink of an idea of what I want to do with my life and how I feel certain I'm going to end up being nothing) isn't worth hearing, because it's not a problem I can fix, just like that.

That's just called angst.
And no one likes to read about angst, even if I know the definition of that word.

Except on my blog. That's what it's made for.
海