I have found myself free. A directionless and open type of experience, but, I have found myself disappointed often. The spark within me refrains from combustion, a thought, a bittersweet memory or illusion of my mind that waters the passion of my heart.
Lord knows that I have written these thoughts over a thousand times by now, however, amidst the concoction that is to cure my inactions, a key ingredient is absent.
As I watch the days disappear from my calendar, my inner hatred regains its strength. A malice that is always hidden within me. A type of putrid fire that is easy to confuse for passion and I worry that my inaction will consume my heart.
Poison to the soul, distilled with the same potency and quality of wine, so easy to be mistaken by the mind.
My mental energy crumbles as quickly. My biggest asset, a gift and curse that is given to me to aid those around me is in peril by my most consistent enemy. Myself.
As I ponder my solutions, not only financially but mentally, I get lost among the sea of people this university hosts. Souls of various traits and personalities wrangled together like cattle, once free but mishandled by the adversity of this world. Wanderers, like me, who are made of clay.
A silent form of adversity that is understood by the masses. A flaw of our societal nature, perhaps the world, where education becomes a privilege rather than a right. A fight for survival and knowledge.
An invisible option manifests. Should we fight the oncoming waves that this relentless ocean provides or be consumed by its power?
To yield so easily to the oncoming is a safer way for life to be molded for you. You become free of your own freedom, allowing life to toss you and turn you in whichever way it desires. The clay you provided becomes part of a vast world where meaning is hidden and purpose is a granted illusion.
Life foresees your true value, and exchanges it for a mere superficial existence. A lugubrious existence. A cog in someone else’s machine, you are reshaped to be a mug or vase in a world where we have a plethora of blasted utensils.
I watch as the world becomes silent by the transformation. Many are shaped to be in alignment with who they are, while others become deformed statues. We become pawns in a game where players become indifferent to our existence.
In order to satisfy our basic human need for connection and belonging. We trade our humanity in order to fit in with humanity, forgo our traits and bloom to be something lesser to what we can become.
Desyncronification amidst the soul, the mind and the heart. A plague that is often attributed with the self, when in reality, it should be with our culture.
I observe my newly given world be ravaged by this plague. People are so connected, yet so disconnected from each other. Hiding in plain sight, seeking refuge amidst their cellular devices and fictional tomes. A bubble that could be described as paradise, from an already established oasis. Blocking all noise with earbuds and other devices, a form of escapism that is so fragile, and easily collapsible.
Those who do not seek refuge, denounce their cognitive abilities by over stimulation. Endless internet consumption has corrupted the mind of many, rooting away our intelligence. We amuse ourselves into a coma. A state worse than death, a type of limbo of unproductiveness.
While there are many variants of this plague, what all of these diseases have in common is that they steal our freedom. As this world is designed to be overwhelming by default and we are very limited on energy. A side effect of survival, we often take the easier roads in life.
Roads that are controlled by the masses. People who have deprived the trails of its resources and plaster it with various tolls and checkpoints. For a small fee of individualism, they grant you an easier yet less rewarding existence. They remove your thoughts, troubling or not, and grant you access to an easier and more addictive form of mental tranquility.
Those who seek aid cannot truly be helped, they are casted away by the world for their independent thoughts. In fear, society drugs and separates those who are granted the ability to think deeply.
How many pieces of ourselves do we have to give before we are nothing but an empty husk?
To lose our life is a common practice, but to trade it for a mere existence is a fate worse than death itself.
A subset of hypocrisy assaults my psyche. I preach all of these thoughts, yet my inaction speaks for itself. I am slowly being consumed by this busy hurricane. A tsunami of existence that whispers to me sweetly and mischievously. A voice that is a combination of the masses, uninterested in my life, just in my essence. A creature that can only hear but cannot listen, can touch but cannot feel, is cursed to see but cannot understand.
As I reform my newly given life, I must remind myself that my time in this world is borrowed. Not only in University, but in this world. That I was once blinded by overcomplications of this world and guided by its superficiality. A pitiful existence. A dimension that is so easy to crawl back, yet so difficult to leave.
With the clay that is provided to me, I wish to mold it into a stone. Indifferent to the indifference this world provides, I will hold off the oncoming waves like a boulder holds off a passing tide. As I explore my world and discover more traits and lessons, I will gain more clay. I will grow in size in the hopes that those who are swept by the storm can find a place to rest. To see the world for what it is, to understand the opportunities our universe provides, to live.
One of the various aspects that make humanity so special is the ability to mold our lives. If we denounce the ability to be free, the art of being human, we are trading away the most valuable asset: The power to forget our reality. By default, humans are artists, we can create anything with enough tools. Even when all is lost, humans can create hope from thoughts. However, it is so easy to get lost in this new age. Many want to take your ability to think, to create, to be free. As the days go by, it will only get harder to reshape yourself. Stagnation will consume you until you can no longer think for yourself. Until you cannot change.
Freedom is a privilege, it is a malleable state of mind that can be handled like clay. Those who are unaware of its existence will have their freedom handled for them.
Leave a Reply