I am not often afraid, when I am afraid I acknowledge it is fear, but more for others less then it is for myself. I’m not sure where it comes from, presumably it is a subconscious desire to either hope the future will be better without me or that whom ever I am saving is or more value a live then I am. Both seem to have rather morbid connotations associated with them, and both are assuming that I am giving my life for them.
Yet, I find myself making the ladder comparison more and more. I’ve managed to convince a very intrinsic part of me that, any situation that does not involve me fully sacrificing myself, is not something truly worth doing. That, seems like a fundamental problem that would inhibit most of what I try to do in my life as I don’t see it as worthy towards any cause.
Now where does something like that come from?
I seem to be answering my own questions, so I’ve also deduced that its from a significant lack of experience in my life that didn’t involve giving a 100% because otherwise it would end. I grew up with the idea that everything is to be sacrificed, and everything is impermanent, nor people nor things could fix that, and that was what I was meant to feel.
This was because not only would I grow up with this mentality, the limited pool of experiences that I had, had, I took a lot of external influences from the media that I consumed. I was by in large a product of my teens, because that was literally the only example that I had. So things life film, art, books and in particular music all led me to have these metal habits, where, the extremes were the only occasions okay to be free, for we had to suffer for life would never let us live.
This fantastic numbness covers everything that happens after you change over to this mentality. And because you never realized it was happening, there was nothing you thought to do about it, and as such it was just how you were supposed to live. You go about doing what you have to. Living exactly how you thought you were supposed to, chugging along towards anything but where you were at that moment, because maybe that next station, that next sacrifice, that next fall on the sword will allow you to finally be redeemed for being where you were.
Cause that place…
That ideal place. That place where I would be able to kill myself enough to not be where I was anymore. That place was never real, that was an imaginary place to accept that realities of those moments that had to be dealt with. That place, was never meant to hold me up permanently as an individual but rather to help prop me up as a functioning member of society, just enough to do that.
But when you’re on the train, waiting to go somewhere just because you need to get out of that same old reality you think you’re in, and you’re writing about the great tragedy of being unable to see the cyclical nature of ones own life as it seems to repeat the same patterns because we are inevitably the same people we’ve been since childhood. You realize something. You realize if you can see it happening, whats stopping the wrench of self choice from stopping it?
What’s stopping the disintegration of the comparison? The One that you needed for so long just to get through the years, because they were the only lights and you clung to them every time in order to cover your own sense of emptiness because you didn’t have anything else more intrinsic to look towards?
Is it that there isn’t aren’t dire enough consequences to lead you into what you might entail as worthy enough self sacrifice that will inevitably change you?
Therein lies the dilemma. Do we choose to live by the mantras of our past, which while they did not lead us negatively, certainly not me, but never gave us the stability of foresight that we needed as well? Its really just a loaded yes or no answer.
And its that simple. We are not who we once were, we became what we did because of the circumstances of our lives, and used the tools we had available to our disposal to get us through those, and now that tool is no longer the metaphor that we can use to fuel our lives, because the words we couldn’t say aren’t the things that stop us anymore.