I know....so what next?

It does n’t interest me anymore...watching movies, eating food, reading book, work, philosophy, meeting people, friends, family, and strangers....anything or anyone in particular. All I know is that I have to keep myself busy and pretend to be alive. It seems that if I do not do that, I will have no other option but to look up at an empty ceiling above, and observe nothingness. To live with nothingness is a life which perhaps many ascetics aspire towards. It does n’t haunt me, possibly because I have devised a way to avoid that, but at the same time, it does n’t interest me anymore.   I am often being told that I am quite unpredictable, that time I pleasantly and on some rare occasions, unpleasantly manage to surprise others. I never actually plan on doing things in an unpredictable manner, but it seems that to me, my choices, my likes, my dislikes are so defined, that there is nothing more to look forward to. I know what kind of movies I like to watch, what will get me smile, what will get me irritated, what will my favorite ice cream taste like. I know, or I think I know, everything there seems to be possible to know about myself. And while that is a quest of a lot of people, and many philosophers throughout their lives, I am not sure if I can do anything with the information I have got about myself. Correction. It is not that I am not sure if I can do anything with the information I have about myself, but more so, that I am certain I do not want to do anything with it.

It seems that once a person knows himself, herself or the world around him or herself, there will be a magical moment. It will be distinct. And certainly important. I never imagined that knowing oneself can actually  be of no significance at all. So, I know myself. Big deal! The question which can be approached using that information is: Do I like what I know? I do. Again, so, big deal. Had I answered that question in a negation, the quest in life would have been to get over my self esteem issues. Having resolved such issues, it doesn’t really seem to be an achievement.

And although everything in life does n’t have to be achievements, the lack of these, or the lack of any substantial reason to get going everyday feels like...me. For the past two months for instance, I was looking forward to not miss one birthday. Next month, again I am looking forward to not miss some birthdays, I know I will not be able to or plan to forget. I want my life to be more than just numbers of some days, some of these have no particular significance at all.

No wonder I feel aged. I don’t think that watching my favorite movie or book can give can be more entertaining than looking at my ceiling. Not that looking at my ceiling is entertaining in any way or even relaxing. Closing my eyes, and trying to get my brain to shut up, now that is relaxing.

Let me close my eyes and sleep,
So that I do not have to be with the awake ‘me’.
Ask my brain to stop thinking and leave me alone.
Let my bloggers not read my posts alone, but write back.
Maybe, maybe then, some unpredictability will resurface.

Looking through the French Window

At times I wonder why sitting in my room behind a closed door makes me feel so calm. I seem to like to keep myself locked away, ironically from myself. And that too not merely to find myself, but to be alone with my thoughts.

These thoughts are what get me going. And at the same time, these thoughts are also what make me want to run away from these the next day. I try to avoid these thoughts throughout the week. I try to tell myself that my life is okay. That it turned out pretty great. However, when I think, alone with my thoughts on a Sunday afternoon, I do not agree.

I do not think things are fine, that life has turned out great. I think about the things I could have had, I think about what life could have been like, had destiny not interrupted. Or rather how it might have turned out to be, had destiny responded as I wish it should have.

It does respond. Occasionally it does. I won't complaint it doesn't happen because it does. Or at least, so we are led to believe. It just doesn't respond at the right time, under the required circumstances.

I wish I had that...instinct. To second guess myself, second guess others, second guess destiny and do that perfectly. I seem to have lacked that instinct, if not the courage to want to do that. Mostly I admire people with instinct. Those who not only observe but get to know what is going on. At times I feel jealous. I want to share a similar experience. However, that rarely happens to me. The world outside of my head, feels like a different world, which I can see through a large clean full length French window. I see them, I see things, but I fail to understand these, and not because of lack of trying. I seem to have now started accepting my fate, on being on the opposite, unreachable side of that French window, of observing from a very thin distance the world outside. I have stopped looking for a door or a way out.

However, I wish if someone could reach out to me instead, from the other side. Notice that I sit there waiting, observing, trying to keep myself busy in a tiny coffee shop, fiddling with a pen at the table, not even looking for a paper, just looking from time and again at the French window I try throughout the rest of the week, to avoid. I mean, I don’t even drink coffee. Yet I find myself in a coffee shop every day.