A TWENTY-YEAR-OLD BOY
The journey of this boy’s life has begun, so what has remained?
Look, without further ado, the reason this boy move to nowhere currently, especially these days — since the mid-autumn — is because his present self, this twenty-year-old boy is seeking a deep connection with people. And from the world. What! An introduction? Bitch, I know this article isn’t well introduced and that’s not the point of it. Can we move?
So, this present twenty-old-boy feels extremely LOST. And left out. And deceived. And narcissistic. And stupid. And unloving (and unlovable). And unskilled. And fraudulent.
At this point, I forgive this boy for feeling like this but I seem to not be fully able to reach the point of understanding the roots of the motivation that are behind the reason for feeling like this which gave birth to this kind of uncomfortable feeling.
Sometimes I feel like this boy is too naive and can’t handle his feeling and wrap them as culinary dishes in a way that he failed to distinguish GOOD from BAD, BETTER from WORSE, KIND and EVIL, REALITY from FANTASY, PURPOSE from REASON, and LOST from FOUND.
This boy seems to give too much fucks about his feelings that appear to dominate and shape his reality in his way. I believe everybody has their reality. Someone else’s reality is not everybody else’s reality. So this twenty-year-old boy’s reality is often invaded by anger, loss, and feelings of pain that he tries to numb by applying multiple does that don’t seem to deliver any satisfaction at all.
But still, I forgive him. He will eventually learn his lesson in the hard way.
Alright, back to this boy’s fogginess vision and dumbness escapements that he indulges in which are alcohol and drugs, he sometimes forgets that people are only interested in themselves. And that hurt him a lot because when he’s out there, trying to hang around with them, he is absolutely out with them and into them with all of his heart. But people are not, they’re merely interested in their self-image, what they do, what they’ll do, how they look, and what they have, especially when their heads are too magnetized straight in their cellphone devices.
Therefore, this twenty-year-old boy enjoys being around people. But the problem with him, the huge problem that he’s trying to hide and run away from, is that he lost his ability and desire to SOLITUDE.
Consequently, he is now unable to stay alone and spend enough time with his own company. Why? Because he’s s afraid of his thoughts and the person he’s becoming (or will become). And because he seeks connection from the world. There’s this constant search for outside connection that keeps on occurring frequently and that he finds difficult to resist. And it’s sad because it’s been almost 5 months that shit kept on repeating without arriving at any point of destination.
To him, being alone is now very hard work. He seeks connection because he’s disconnected from the world, everything, and everybody, particularly from HIMSELF. Seriously, the guy is utterly and completely fucking disconnected from the self of him that he used to know. And it angers him.
He is disgusted if his twenty-year-old stupid self who lost the genuine feeling of love, art, and creativity. Sure, he does have the traits and capabilities of an artist (I don’t fucking know whether to say capabilities or abilities, but you get me). This boy is creative, I know him. And he can fucking blow your mind if you give enough (you already know it, just say it).
The fat problem is that he’s been busy ceaselessly chasing after nothing at a higher altitude — yep, he was flying straight up higher like an eagle — for almost 15 weeks, and when he fell over the ground, everything crashed instantly like a stock market of Wall Street in 1929, exploded like a deadly nuclear explosion, and turned into tiny fragments of atoms.
He called himself an optimist but all he did was the avoidance of the real situation in reality that was uncomfortable. Checkmate! The boy lost. He lost immediately and so easily. He lost what he had in exchange for, sad to say, nothing. Or, for the optimistic religion or tribe, he was lucky because he won. Yup, he won the so-called nothing. But at least he won…according to optimists.
See? It at intervals makes no fucking difference to be an optimist if all you do is deny the nature of the problem while feeding yourself a metric shitload of positivity instead of confronting it. And then admit that you were merely a pessimist all along because you chose to avoid it with positivity and you’re full of shit. And by this, I recommend a deep, genuine self-awareness. Or therapy.
Okay, where I was? Can this boy stand a chance to create and earn a life that he truly desires? We don’t know. Even God is not sure. Look, God is not an optimist, I state. Why, and how do you know? you ask. Well, because, I reply, he doesn’t hope for anything. He doesn’t believe in anything because he is God. He doesn’t wish for anything to get better goddammit! Everything is neither better nor worse to him. He doesn’t fucking know.
—— EMERGENCE OF UNPLEASANT CHANGE — —
For some interesting details, this twenty-year-old boy is deviating from the beliefs that he used to have, from the norms he used to practice, from the values he used to hold, and from the things he thought were real but weren’t.
For further fascinating details, the last time I checked, he was speeding on a high-way to create new missions, integrating and decluttering his thoughts, collecting his conscious self and awaking his unconscious self, getting to know the person he is becoming, postponing shitty hangovers, and sustaining his artwork as much as he can. And the day I met him on a highway it was on Friday morning when the winter’s sun was doing its natural duty of energy provision, on that day he was heading straight to hell.
So, the question is: will this twenty-year-old boy survive? Wait, hold my beer, will he survive the consequences he is putting himself into? We don’t know baby. But we are watching…
My eyes dropped some liquids of pain (or should I say tears?). It was Friday at the exordium of the day. I closed my laptop, washed my face with cold water, looked at myself in the mirror, and wait for my friend to come.
