Despite being around good people this past weekend, I am still living in the slump. I don’t understand what’s wrong. Or maybe “wrong” isn’t the right word… Perhaps nothing’s wrong, things are as they are because of the circumstances. I wish I could take my thoughts, fold them into tiny pieces and scatter them somewhere away from me. My mind is playing tricks on me and it numbs my body. I need to move. I want to move, only my will power is low and fear of change, fear of failing, fear of getting stuck again are pinning me to the ground.
I spent last Friday with my sister; we took a walk through the park, ate chocolate donuts and sat on a bench and talked for hours. The weather was fine, not too crowded, the air was clear and a peacock was making a lot of amusing noises. I started to feel better; or so I thought. I was a little uncomfortable being around people because I felt watched. I have dreadlocks, always dressed in black, and it’s only natural that I attract some attention, but I find it rude. I forgot how narrow-minded people can be; even today, they tend to reject anyone who’s different. Anyway, maybe I was just imagining things. How should I know?! I can’t even trust my own mind these days.
After my sister went home I got a call and met with some friends at a pub. Again, it was pretty fun, haven’t been there since winter, and I thought I was feeling even better, my mood was improving. I could breath. We made plans to go camping during the weekend and so we did!
Saturday, I arrived at our usual camping spot earlier than everybody else. I just wanted to stay by myself for a while, in silence, hearing only the birds, the insects and the stream of water. Of course, I had a book; I began reading Tolstoy’s “A confession”. All of the thoughts and questions Tolstoy had at the age of 50 are like living worms crawling under my skin, eating me from the inside out since I first encountered death -the death of my grandfather- at 12 years old. I lived in despair and terror my whole life. I only distracted myself with daily activities and pushed those thoughts aside, in the back of my mind. What else is there to do? If I keep asking questions about the meaning of life and reasons to stay alive I would go insane. We all die at some point, why should anything matter?
I thought a lot about this, sitting there on my blanket, under a tree, all green and so much beauty around me. I felt that beauty inside of me as well, the complexity of the human body and how small we are in this vast universe. How can I find the answers to these questions if I haven’t even seen, learned or lived 1% of all that can be seen, learned and lived? Will we ever find the correct answers to the questions we have about existence? What should I do? Just live and do my best to learn as much as I can, even if nothing really matters in the end? I’m getting closer to death every single day, we all do, and after almost 30 years of being alive I found no meaning whatsoever.
Oh, the drama in my head…
Nature was so soothing; I felt embraced, held by the earth at its warm chest like a hopeless child and I almost fell asleep. My friends arrived two hours later and we had a lovely time together. My thoughts were far away, back in the box.
What are we doing in this life? How did we come into existence? Why am I the way I am? Who am I?
Why can’t I enjoy my short time here and leave these thoughts behind? I’ll never find the answers in my lifetime, so why bother? And what if I do and they may not be the answers I am hoping for?