Human Bondage

I love people. Life itself is such a phenomenon  that even after twenty years on this earth I still find myself boggled by it. Not sure that I'm trying to understand it - I'm nowhere near smart enough nor capable to wrap my mind around such a concept. But still. As I type this I'm sitting across from an older man on one of the library's computers, updating his iTunes library. Flesh expands and contracts as sinew undulates around a skeletal structure. Small hairs varying from dark black to pale gray shoot up his arm to his hand, and the skin tone gains hints of red, becoming a pale blush color. All these organs and glands and follicles and nerve endings are useless components when they're by themselves; no more than piles of rotting flesh. But a spark was breathed into this heap of tissue and a circuit was formed, blood rushed and an automaton became so much more. It sounds voyeuristic and I can't help but watch people as they walk past me. Observing movements, trends, and a brief part of evolution. Life is a beautiful blend of tangibles and intangibles, the science that dictates us all and the creeds and time lines that allow s to brake molds and evolve within a lifetime.

Personal Jesus

I'm filled with this overwhelming sensation that I'm not quite in touch with reality. All these people are saying that my lifestyle isn't realistic; that helping people isn't realistic. Why? Because I'm depressed. Of course I'm sad, my God, I don't know how many people in my situation would be perfectly happy, am I so deficient? Is my sadness an overreaction? My head is throbbing with all these thoughts, all these words are constantly being dissected and probed and analyzed and I have no idea what I'm doing wrong. Can you help people when you're sad? Do you have to crawl into a rock until you're fully recovered? Why do people look at my attempts at philanthropy as me flailing and nearing a chasm? Is it so wrong to try to help people? Do my actions need to be validated to be unselfish? I don't see actions with intrinsic and extrinsic values, I try not to because that just makes everything more confusing...even more than it already is. Why does this bother me so much? If my actions are flailing...then it means that I need redemption; if they're simply for intrinsic value than I'm not really a good person I just need gratification...so I need to believe that I'm neither close to a melt down nor that I'm a truly empty person. I get why it bothers me now.

Miss Murder

I sent my little sister to chemotherapy yesterday. I can't sleep. I know that the procedure is supposed to help her but why can I only seem to see that I've condemned a three year-old to months of intense sickness and exhaustion and pain? For the longest time we had opted to get Her alternative methods of treatment but recently the doctors have noticed new tumors forming in other areas of the body, and they suggested a bone marrow transplant. Luckily I'm a perfect match but in order for the transplant to occur She needed an extensive session of chemotherapy. God help me She's so sick and She's so pale and I hate seeing Her like this. Was it right of me to schedule the procedure after Her birthday? For the rest of Her life will She only know happiness as the harbinger to sadness and pain? Why did I do this.....please forgive me.

Minus the Complexity

I hate rules. Absolutely despise them. Sometimes I fantasize about a world with no rules - just complete unbridled freedom. At the same time, absolute freedom would create anarchy and pandemonium and the world as we know it would cease to exist. Imagine a world where no one cared about the bills or the obligations that they needed to fulfill to society, would life be one big party or would it be the harbinger of an apocalypse? The same question could be applied if one abandons the rules that dictate their personal life. If you could do whatever you want, say whatever crossed your mind, and take part in each and every vice you please...would this be better or worse?

Like I Was Prematurely Awakened From A Dream

There’s so much on my mind that I want to get out into the open but I can’t because A) not only will I sound depressing, B) I will come across as incoherent and mildly retarded and C) I honestly don’t know how to get it all out. This whole writing process is supposed to be cathartic but all I feel is confusion and regret for eating a whole plate of General Tso’s chicken for lunch...the writing doesn't cause the regret I just thought I would be one hundred percent open with how I’m feeling. Possibly too much information, I don’t know. I feel pretty confused to be honest – when did people start thinking that life would become perfect and carefree when they struck the lottery? What happened to wanting to be a ballerina or an astronaut or a fire fighter? It disappoints me when I hear so many people only want money in their lives, and I hope that some of them aspire for bigger and better things beyond it – but at the same time I can’t talk or criticize because I’ve never felt that hunger that some of them do, and for me to even sympathize would be condescending in a way. So….I sit and I observe. I do love watching the definition of the human condition re-write itself as time progresses.

This Seemed More Promising

Word to the wise: if you have feelings for someone keep them bottled up; telling someone how you feel not only releases the genie but makes you feel worse in a situation that normally probably wouldn’t faze you to begin with. Today I learned this and another fact: I’m not the girl that guys would want to take home to their mom. I actually learned this not too long ago, and I’m not sure how to react quite yet…so I wonder what kind of girl they see me as. Do boys even take girls to meet their mom anymore? What happened while I was asleep that changed the dating world so drastically from when I was younger. Everything had seemed so promising when I was little: you grow up, you meet a boy that respects you and treats you right and if you’re a good girl and he really, really likes you a lot he will take you home to meet his parents. The line of events continues with a wedding, two kids, a white picket fence and then a senile but happy ending in some retirement home where the workers don’t abuse the tenants. What happened!?

Catch 22

Commitment scares me. It's not the idea of never being romantically or sexually involved with another person besides your partner that terrifies me - it's the fact that there really is no security or guarantee. When you put yourself out there on that tree branch who's to say that your partner will stay faithful or hell, that you yourself will remain faithful. I'm scared shitless. I don't want to be the girl that cheats on her boyfriend nor the girl that gets cheated on. I like my independence. I like knowing that if I'm alone, there's no chance of me getting hurt or getting my heart broken. But at the same time, the catch is that with that solitude I won't be able to discover my better half, my soul mate, my love. So many books and songs preach that it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all but have those people ever walked in on their partner engaged in sexual intercourse with their own cousin? Witness that, manage to keep the same "keep on keepin' on" attitude and then I'll listen to your ramblings more earnestly. I suppose this whole entry has to deal with inner guilt and insecurities and whatnot, but because I'm not laying on a couch and Freud isn't around to psychoanalyze me and blame my mother for my inability to trust then we'll call it a night.