NingenExp

I want to die satisfied with the quality of my life. That’s why I usually crave to experience more, because I’m afraid of feeling stuck regretting about what was missing in my life while I’m hopelessly watching it drain or fade away. Nevertheless, I often feel there’s nothing driving me in life and that’s why I invest a lot of time, interest and mental effort into looking for something meaningful enough to motivate me to explore; I believe I am its source and not finding it makes me believe I am hollow or void. At the end, I realize I’m feeling exactly the same I fear. I’m trapped.

Talking about motivation, I feel it’s difficult to obtain it, but it’s even more difficult to maintain it, mainly because I think it’s highly correlated with intensity of feeling. Even if I figured out a way to replace the unfindable source of limitless motivation, I’m aware that it cannot be artificially produced; hence sometimes I wish I could feel passionately, because it would grant me temporal will to keep on living. For example, crying. I treasure those moments, because they make me feel more humane, compassionate and vulnerable; they let reconciliation invade me easily, besides that it makes me connect with something beyond our understanding. Additionally, shedding tears with someone close to you bonds the relationship of intimacy in an uncanny, supernatural way and I appreciate it.

Another example is rage. I admit I do not express my anger adequately; I seldom stand up boldly to defend my points of view. I do not identify with being a mediator, even if I automatically desire to go between both sides of a situation, because I don't usually stand up for those motifs either. Since I remember, I have always felt at the exact middle of everything. I don’t think I was placed there for a reason; it was my fate, because I was born that way. It’s some kind of curse and bless. A bless because it makes me be more in touch with the absolute truth or some tricky illusion of objectivity. A curse because it makes me feel alone, cowardly, doubtful, ambiguous and indecisive; ambivalent towards intimates and indifferent towards the rest and makes me believe the ultimate source of identification is always going further and getting out of my reach.


I’m a soulless errant of life, but at least I am self-sufficient, or at least I try.