a quest, told in uncomfortable truths

the problem with feeling everything is feeling everything.

sometimes, when i’m alone i think about all the things i see and hear throughout the week. here are a few of them.

a few weeks ago i fell in love with the sound of the bell of the clock tower in the buchanan courtyard. i hadn’t noticed it before. it’s this low drone that reverberates through the open windows of the classroom and permeates through your skin and courses through all of your veins and shakes up all of your cells. it reminds people that they’ve gotta be somewhere or with someone. it usually reminds me that i’m still alive. not many things remind me of my existence. sometimes i think of it as my alarm clock, but instead of it chiming to say “your ass has places to be”, it’s actually saying, “hurry. live. time is finite”.

a few weeks prior to that, i realized that i’m scared that i’ve already met the love of my life. this made me extremely happy, and also extremely sad. i feel happy for obvious reasons, but i feel sad because i know that i will probably never be able to express the multiplicity of things i feel for this person. i felt/feel extremely pathetic. but i blushed anyway. they remind me of what it feels like to be in high school again – naive, impressionable, and vulnerable. sometimes it’s much better to be those things, because i think intelligence and experience causes one to lose a lot of light, metaphorically speaking. anyway.

prior to that, i noticed a non-stop ticking noise on the old models of the expo/millennium line trains. i thought it was a bomb at first. i’m not sure why my mind went straight to that conclusion. i sat on the train with my hand in my pocket, clutching my phone in my pocket. i texted my parents, telling them i loved them. i saw them twenty minutes later.

last russian class, my professor explained to us doestoevsky’s understanding of religion inducing happiness. it’s called the “mythic prosaic”. basically, it’s doing small acts of kindness unto others, which shape society for the better. people who want to save humanity in one stroke end up loving humanity but hating individual people because they become aware of their inability to relieve all suffering caused by each and every single person, since every single person shares a universal responsibility for other mens’ sins. i’m agnostic but i appreciate religion more now, even though i feel like i’m an existentialist. i wish i were capable of higher thinking. i nearly cried when i heard the explanation of happiness as reiterated by dostoevsky. on the bus ride home, i questioned myself. i nearly cried again, but for different reasons. i can’t pinpoint those reasons, but part of me feels like i haven’t been happy in a long time, and that i need to start being better – so much better.

for a long while i’ve been trying to find meaning in everything, because i think everything has meaning. i used to want to live extremely happily, but recently i’ve wanted to live. TO LIVE. not exist, although existing is nice. but living! i want to experience what “sublime” feels like. i want to be so moved by something or someone that it alters the way i see the world (perhaps even to a point where i consider veganism, even though i think a lot of vegan sentiments are classist and racist, not that i want to be either of those). i want to stop caring about the things people had/have to say about me, for whatever reason.

sometimes, when i know i’m going to the shop that my ex works at downtown, i wear something nice and venture off to his department so i can let him know i’m doing better without him. arguably, i think i do that to try to convince myself that i’m not still hurt by the things he did. but it’s easier to blame other people than to find faults in yourself.

in december, we went through an earthquake. nothing major, but its presence demanded to be felt, and i wrote about it on this blog. i slept through it. i am still afraid of not living enough. i think i will always be afraid of not living enough. between the time i made that post until now, i don’t think i’ve lived any more than i did then, and i am ashamed of myself because of that.

i know nothing about physics, but i often think of that theory where there are multiple alternate universes, each converging into the present moment, the now, in its immediacy. that means anything can happen at any given moment, depending on the string that reality decides to fall upon. sometimes i wonder if the string i’m currently on is as good as it’ll get. sometimes i wish myself away from the lives of everyone around me – not as in death, because i love life, but as an apology. i am unsure of myself. and i feel like my strings spiral and twist before my reality moves onto their path.

my earliest childhood memory was of me sitting at the back of an SUV, watching airplanes fly over my head through a sun roof at the airport. sometimes i wonder why our brain keeps memories like that. sometimes i wonder why our brains select certain memories over others. why can’t i remember better days more than bad days? there should be more research on this.

sometimes, when people say nice things to me, i match it with a compliment that i deem equal. but really, i start despising myself. i always feel like i can never quite show how much i appreciate the people in my life. i’ve tried to craft the perfect “thank you” message with no prevail. sometimes i feel like nobody ever really understands how grateful others are of them in this lifetime. not that i believe in other lifetimes, or past lifetimes, or holy lifetimes, or whatever, but should there be other lifetimes, i feel like none of them would amount to how much gratitude we feel for the people in our lives.


Featured image: by lejoe

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Self-proclaimed jack-of-all-trades. Intersectional feminist. Educator/linguist in training. Fashionista, food-lover, and fairly poor hand-eye coordination.

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