I recently read over the essays that I have produced for this essay-a-week challenge, and while it could be argued that over the year I’ve probably said too much, it might be better said that I’m astonished at how I said any of it at all. This is not a virtue of the fact that my writing is phenomenal. I know better than to persist in that delusion, and I should admit that even after I have published a ‘final’ product, internal contradictions and stylistic inconsistencies stuck out like a blaring sore that only worsened with each read. Instead, my seeming naivety at my own ability stems from a growing sense of apathy – an apathy that sees that I finish a challenge much later than intended, that serves as the cause of growing inner turmoil and restlessness that only stifles my morality further, and that seeps into these words and finds them void of passion and flavour.
It wasn’t always like this. I used to find myself unable to go to bed without penning something down. Pride was a catalyst, and while I may have hated everything I had written, I was more than satisfied that I did write. I didn’t exactly have something to significant say, but rather felt that I had something I wanted said in my own way. I battled topics like Hitler’s potential for good, if there could be any such thing. I opened up personally, perhaps as a way of catharsis. I even offered a resume I handed in for a course that I was bitterly rejected from. Life, it seemed, was what I gave in words, and life, it seemed, was what I saw reflected back at me.
It wasn’t easy. There was no romance behind the process. I slaved. Behind each word and each sentence, however ineptly they may have been written, was the stitchings of numerous revisions and reworkings. Nothing I said, this included, was how it was originally written. And nothing I said, this included, was how it was originally conceived in my mind because while I may have spent a week thinking about some idea, once penned, that idea came to life.
And by that virtue, life is change.
I have experienced plenty of this change over the last little while and I can perhaps pin my apathy to its blossoming. If I am to delve further into my personal life, I should say that I have watched entire worlds shatter. I have seen the beginning and end of time mapped out on a paper napkin only to be scribbled out to draw something more interesting. I have done, felt, and saw the human condition balanced on a chair and hung on a rope like a lifeline if all else fails. I have known that that same rope, when looked through in comparison to a world painted in shades of gray, can act as a lens to see colours and a final, complete solution. I understood that colours are just naturally selected benefits and they only help humans to survive. I, over the last little while, wondered why we continue to survive in a world that is only doomed to die one day.
And this change further propelled me to realize that the only reason we live is that we have to. Certainly we will die one day, but that makes us lucky. Out of all the possibilities in the world, all the infinitesimal small chances of life in this Universe, we – little more than blobs of organic matter – have come into being – a thinking, breathing, loving, caring, farting, laughing, smiling cosmological lottery ticket that’s knee deep in the Milky Way. That’s us.
I forgot about this and instead went on a self-destructive, yet apathetic path. I didn’t live. I waited for life to find me. This is the aftermath of the smolders of that wait. I won’t get into the details but I have atrophied long enough to at least know that I have to write about it now. After it all, that is what remains to be said: a self-realization. If these words were my escape, let them become the place I find myself in again. Because no matter how much I write, or how much I don’t, or how insignificant both of the options may turn out to be, there will always be something left unsaid because there will always be more to say. I’m just hoping these are the first words in trying to find the words to say it, whatever it may be.