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It’s only a dream

June 10, 2010

I’ve often sat there, disillusioned by the way my life is, often trying to convince myself that it’s only a dream– a dream that I need to wake up from. I rationalize and stress, putting together these puzzles in my head– hoping to come up with some solution that will be good enough.

But deep down, I know better. I always did. It’s just that the truth isn’t good enough– it never was.

I’ve found that I can make reality– the truth– whatever I want it to be. So I figure, I’ll make it something worthwhile– meaningful. Something that gives my life purpose. A collection of puzzle pieces that only I can solve. I’ll make my own truth, thus providing my own means for living…

Yeah I know that it’s not real. But then again, it doesn’t have to be.

What good is the truth if it bears no meaning? Fiction has proven to us all too convincingly that reality is overrated– that more meaning and truth can be found in fantasy and  “ideality” than in reality.

The truth is emptiness– darkness– a melancholic hole. The truth is an abyss of darkness. No one wants the truth– no one can handle the truth. If I really accepted the truth, I probably would have committed suicide a long time ago. Because my life would not have any meaning.

So what then, is life about?

It’s not about the truth, that’s for sure!

Life is about what I’m doing right now– creating one’s own truth. One’s own meaning to life.

The more I seek after the truth, the more that I suffer– suffer until I become jaded to life, and in some ways, sickly sadomasochistic to it. By searching for the truth, my own life loses meaning, until I am not even willing to live.

What is the meaning in knowing the truth, if by finding it one loses the will to live?

It’s only a dream– why should I wake up from it? Why wake up, if it means that I won’t remember the dream anyway. I might as well enjoy it, while I still can! Trying to wake up from a dream before you are ready only brings suffering– I would know.

As the line between fantasy and reality begins to blur, I realize that I am better off creating my own truth– a truth that will make me happy.

I am not happy right now, so there must be something wrong with what I believe. Is there something so wrong with thinking about reality that way? I am who I am, and I know who I am, so wouldn’t it be wiser to follow my own instincts and judgment? I should do whatever makes me happy, because happiness is the product of fulfilling one’s purpose.

I’m not living out my purpose, so of course I am unhappy.

By trying to live out someone else’s life, I am causing myself to suffer, being caught between the dream I never had, the dream that I am trying to wake up from, and the reality that I refuse to accept. It’s a dead-end lifestyle–

Not mine.

Rather than cheating myself of living, I should learn to follow my heart. Even if I could do amazing things, if there is no authenticity in my actions, my actions are meaningless.

So if I am to live a meaningful life, I must live my life– my dream– not someone else’s.

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