Today two cups of coffee put me through several epiphanies of urgent realisation. I pushed myself on my wooden swivel chair to the large mirror next to my desk and whispered, “Do something with your life,” to my reflection. I looked into my own eyes and I saw the words ‘change the world’ in stark serif. I blinked and the words ‘your surfeitedness with life is a bane to your existence’. I then moved myself and chair back to my desk and stared at my laptop. Images and symbolic references, though obscurely relevant, reminded me of someone dear to me. It was then I realised I am a blase entity because I am as passive as a piece of driftwood with tired and lazy human arms, marred with the universal curse of inconsistency and the constant need for blame.
However, because I am constantly existing in a state of inconsistency, you, you, you, you and you do not see the entire picture. The impression you have etched in your minds is but an involuntary illusion that exists due to a multi-facaded veil of pretense. Its purpose? Don’t ask me. I would not know. This pretense sits subtly over my face and masks my emotions and thoughts pervasively, beyond my control. Whether or not it is a catalyst for a spark of artifice in my character is beyond my scope of concern. I think I’m learning to deal with this.
The fact that I am growing accustomed to my personality dysfunction is a sign of trouble. This now poses an existential problem: if I am learning to deal with this parasite that is a perpetual interruption to the manifestation of life, then it means it is depositioning the essence of my character, and replacing it. Quietly, it tells me my disgruntlement and anger is a source of empowerment, and it will be because of this that I will do something with my life. In my opinion, death is not the only constant in life. Change is. Adapting to it is the hard part. Death is easy. Change will lull you into a sinister depression.
