Emotion
I feel. I see. I experience. Emotion is a part of being human, akin to humanity. To be without emotion, is to be without life. A machine does not feel, does not respond to feelings, does not make decisions based on gut instinct. It follows a preprogrammed code. Cause and effect, perhaps, in its rawest form.
But to feel, is a gift we've been given. How would I use it? I don't know. Sometimes, I want to laugh, but I suppress the urge. After all, why would I want people looking at me and judging me for laughing at what I perceive as a funny joke? Yet in the controlled childhood that I had, laughter, or anything out of the norm, wasn't much accepted.
To ask questions about what one did not understand, only served to reinforce the belief (erroneously) that one was stupid. Of course that's why we ask questions - so we might further our understanding of the subject matter. If we didn't have to ask any question, then we'd all be God.
But sometimes, I feel a dearth of emotion. When I should cry, or weep, I can't. It's like something is missing within me. A black hole of unfeeling coldness. Too often there's no despair, just depression and resignation. Why do I not feel frustrated? Is it worth being frustrated? Who knows how everything will turn out? Certainly not me, that much I'm sure of.
Some people speak of divinity being a guiding light. Others speak of self. I just know that sometimes I wish I had a direction to follow, a path to walk. Aimlessness is not a beautiful experience. Too many times, I guess and believe that I've tried to be someone's idea of perfect and failed at it. I can only be me, not what you want me to be.
A child's laughter is what I'd try to recapture. My childhood, if I could relive it. Certain decisions, if I could reverse them, and words, if I could take them back. The clock doesn't stop for me, but in each of us, there lies a seed, a desire to do something good. To create, to invent, to make, for the benefit of others out there in the world. I seek to find my place in the midst of the storm outside. And as time passes, hope fades inside me that I'll ever find that promised land.
One can only do one's best. More than that I cannot do.
Writing is therapeutic, and releases pent-up frustration for me. Though it needs a certain amount of discipline to even click the webpage and enter my posts, this I must do. Discipline is important in life, as boring as it may be. Perhaps this is how I can slowly gain it back. To write, to chronicle some parts of me. To collate and then focus it into a passage.
The subject matter does not matter, just the process of writing. And perhaps one day, I'll uncover the puzzle of who I am and why I'm here and what I should be doing.
But to feel, is a gift we've been given. How would I use it? I don't know. Sometimes, I want to laugh, but I suppress the urge. After all, why would I want people looking at me and judging me for laughing at what I perceive as a funny joke? Yet in the controlled childhood that I had, laughter, or anything out of the norm, wasn't much accepted.
To ask questions about what one did not understand, only served to reinforce the belief (erroneously) that one was stupid. Of course that's why we ask questions - so we might further our understanding of the subject matter. If we didn't have to ask any question, then we'd all be God.
But sometimes, I feel a dearth of emotion. When I should cry, or weep, I can't. It's like something is missing within me. A black hole of unfeeling coldness. Too often there's no despair, just depression and resignation. Why do I not feel frustrated? Is it worth being frustrated? Who knows how everything will turn out? Certainly not me, that much I'm sure of.
Some people speak of divinity being a guiding light. Others speak of self. I just know that sometimes I wish I had a direction to follow, a path to walk. Aimlessness is not a beautiful experience. Too many times, I guess and believe that I've tried to be someone's idea of perfect and failed at it. I can only be me, not what you want me to be.
A child's laughter is what I'd try to recapture. My childhood, if I could relive it. Certain decisions, if I could reverse them, and words, if I could take them back. The clock doesn't stop for me, but in each of us, there lies a seed, a desire to do something good. To create, to invent, to make, for the benefit of others out there in the world. I seek to find my place in the midst of the storm outside. And as time passes, hope fades inside me that I'll ever find that promised land.
One can only do one's best. More than that I cannot do.
Writing is therapeutic, and releases pent-up frustration for me. Though it needs a certain amount of discipline to even click the webpage and enter my posts, this I must do. Discipline is important in life, as boring as it may be. Perhaps this is how I can slowly gain it back. To write, to chronicle some parts of me. To collate and then focus it into a passage.
The subject matter does not matter, just the process of writing. And perhaps one day, I'll uncover the puzzle of who I am and why I'm here and what I should be doing.
posted by Dippers at 5:28 AM
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