Monday, January 2, 2012

Living A Life:::Catharsis Needed.

I start five different posts within a minute, each paced into a breakneck speed that even I can't keep up.  With.

Strange, that.  Not being able to keep up with yourself./


Honesty requires a bit of slowing down, it seems.

Being conscious of limits is infuriating.  

People drive me crazy.  Their ideas.  Their confessions.  Why can't they keep it all to themselves?  Why can't I?   Why must I wrangle out these confessions?  Why must I condition my sustenance on tortured production?

Why not slicken the walls with lubricant and go running around full speed?

At the end of my life, if I have lived a life according to standards, what will it mean?  When I am five days from death?  When all of the potential that could have been is now actualized and splayed out into the finite and knowable past?  What sustenance will I receive, when I know that?  If I have created favorable impressions of myself in twenty people's minds.  If I have convinced myself?  Will it be worth it?

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