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My Direction

December 6, 2010

My problem isn’t with incompetence; I can do anything I set my mind to: writing, reading, physics, math, linguistics, the arts, sports, or management– everything you can think of that a person could be talented at, I am. I have put this to the test many times, and I know this with a certainty, so why does my life not show it? There’s nothing in this world that I am truly passionate about, and it is this lack of passion that causes my otherwise fruitful life to stagnate. There is nothing that I am truly happy about, and so there is no motivation through which passion to channel. I have all the desire in the world, but no direction through which I can sublimate, and so I am lost– a waste of potential.

It’s been this way for quite some time, and even now there is nothing I can do about it, paradoxically because I have no reason to do anything about it. You cannot tell a person without motivation how to live their life, because there is no reason for them to listen to you; such advice would indeed fall on spiritually dead ears; as is the case with me. I know exactly what I need to do to be successful, and I have all the ability in the world to actualize that success, but I lack the motivation to, and herein lies the  ultimate paradox of my existence: how can I find anything to live for, if I lack even the motivation to find that reason in the first place?

What is my direction? This is a question to which I fear there might never be an answer, as no direction seems good enough for me. For a person who’s life will never bear any lasting meaning, and who’s legacy will be forgotten, it’s no wonder that I lack the motivation to do anything amazing with my life, despite the inherent ability to– after all, why bother revolutionizing the world, if the world will forget me eventually, and even forget there had ever been a revolution. People move on, and forget the past; what remains is a distorted memory of a foreign truth– a truth which no one will have ever truly understood to begin with, but merely went along; the whole of the world is filled with zombies who helplessly cling to the dreams of another, being unwilling and unable to think for themselves.

No direction will ever be good enough, because in the end, I will be dead and life will go on without me. This phenomenon is known as the Absurd, and is likely the only thing in this world that should be feared; after all, only through fearing the Absurd can the reality of life truly be understood, sad as though such as reality may be.

What is my direction? What is the meaning of my life? What is my purpose? I have asked this question many, many times, but without success, for this meaning of which I speak cannot even be bestowed upon me by God himself; the question of my existence can only be truly answered by me, for this is My dream and Mine alone.

I escape from myself by becoming part of other’s dreams, and this is a penance as it allows for the fruitation of social interaction and lasting friendships. But I always eventually wake up, and I realize that feeding on the dreams of others is no better than stealing, that to truly have meaning in life I must of my own volition create my own meaning, my own reality, my own dream.

What does my dream look like? Even now I do not know, and can only wonder. Sometimes I fear my dream, not because my dream will bring harm, but because it will not be good enough. To stand in candidness stark, and gaze into my own reflection, to see myself for who I truly am, this is what I am truly afraid. To know where my limits stand, and to see where my good starts and my evil begins, to see where my perfections to become imperfections, of this I cannot know. I see who I am, but see not who I can be. For although I can be great, I also know that such greatness would not suffice; I would expect myself to become even greater, and be disappointed in that expectation. This is the greatest horror of life, at least for me.

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