#Confessions: #Awakening_i
Existential dread of the nature of the world,
Conscious awareness of something better instead of this.
Or, something I deserve that should soon be.
Life is a life of pretending.
In December 2003, I was commanded to stop pretending. And He punished me when I slipped into the awkward self-consciousness. It was the first time in my life when I was free. I was freer than when I was as a child.
For being myself- pretend free, I got punished by family, strangers and abstract ideas.
By the 25th I had shed all pretence and was acting as myself. I stood in the police station, and stared at the authority right in his eye. Exhilarated by my grace and my confidence because I was intoxicated by belief. I believed I had destiny. I now claimed my role and awaited purpose. I knew this was a scene in a story. I had no fears.
Why would one forget a lesson that vital and primal. 14 years later and I am struggling in agony of not being able to be myself. Why would one pretend even- when one is all alone. I confess again someone always watches me, every moment, ever since always. I know nothing at all about it save for one dream I had. But was I not feeling the watcher at the end of 2003? I was. I not only felt it, but also knew he was there. Be it he or they, or just me I don’t know.
Life and subsequently learning are not circular but cyclical. I go round the same stories but in different settings. Life is slow and arduous, but why.
How many people are questioning reality. Why am I not being guided. I am unique. So damn few are aware in the world. I see cracks in so called ‘life’ and my life is being lived for these questions and this quest. But where is the hero’s journey promised? Why do I feel so damn isolated from all kinds of worlds. My thoughts can’t be a product of nothing. My mind must be on to something the human majority will never notice. But where is reward? Where is the promised teacher.
What am I not getting!
No matter how many times I come to ask this fucken question, faith that my belief is true stays foundation. I beg you to tell me why. Where is it coming from!
From an existential horror and revulsion to reality? From a place where a part of me knows life is not this shit? An aspect of me who tells me stories about a different, background reality; where I am someone, and I have something I must do.
What worries me is the sound of time ticking. What frightens me is the the disconnection of my own selves. It is after some event is over that I suddenly become aware that my mind did not make the connections. Memory belonging to different aspects of me are not being accessed when they should. I got left behind from my own life, dazed at the seemingly insignificant destiny.
