i truly do have an inflated sense of self.

You are warned: self absorbed rambles to follow

really, you were warned.

I would like to believe in permanence. It suggests that some things last forever, unchanging and unmoving. That some things will never let you down; you would never have to question permanence. It will always be there, even when you are not. Mind, I am not talking about religion, but the simple idea that building, love, people, ourselves, ideas and what not can last forever. Permanence is dependable, however dull the word is. But then I realize I don’t believe in it. Friends, family, they all come and go and that is just the way it is. One day, our mind will go. Ideas evolve. I don’t believe in living by the concept of seizing the everyday as if it is your last, as if you could be gone by the next sunrise. Yet I’m no Little Prince, believing I can leave and return later to an unchanged rose. I need not travel to other worlds to realize I can never expect to return to the same place I came from. Every day I wake up in a different world; a new world (for better or worse) than the night before.

Nothing lasts forever because what is forever? A limited understanding of the infinite? We think our actions so great, our problems so vast, our troubles so mind boggling, but it and us are nothing but specks. Dust. We are dust and so are our ‘great’ worries and concerns. Our tears will evaporate, but all our tears collected would not make a cloud. We are arrogant, egotistical creatures to believe Mother Nature can’t live without us. But where was I? Oh, yes we are impermanent. We are temporary. We change, with each thought, each action, and then we are never the same again.

I’ve never felt that sense of immortality they say we feel at this age; on the contrary, I have always felt conscious of my own mortality. I have never forgotten how easy it could be to die. I am not afraid of death; I’ve seen myself die in many ways. I’ve never imagine myself living over forty. You know those day dreams we have of our future? Of our future family and lives, and what we will be like? Never over forty. I don’t know if that’s strange. Does everyone do that?

Today I suppose has been a thought provoking day. I have been thinking on who and what I am, who and what makes others who they are. I was thinking of what a friend said the other day, of how people used to come up to her and tell them all their problems and how she didn’t know exactly why. And I thought to myself then, yes, I used to have friends come up to me too. But then today I realized there is a distinct difference between those whom listen to the problems of others and those who are empathetic. And you may think of course, well that’s obvious. They are two different things. But it had not occurred to be that sometimes, maybe, we seek out both those types of people. I have never been empathetic. In fact, talking to me is probably like talking to a rubber wall, I understand what you are saying and can repeat it back to you from a different angle, but I don’t feel what you feel. I see where you are coming from, but I am not in your shoes. There are those who can come across as though they feel every drop of emotion in your soul, as though your problem was theirs. Going to the extreme of thinking you should feel every drop of their emotion too, even on the days when they are swimming in so much of feelings they can’t see or think of yours/others. I have met extremes and in-betweens of both. And I hope you understand that you are both, and how precious it is to feel. How special a gift you have that you can feel for others, be so much of a comfort to others, and yet still give sound advice.

And this is the part that I could not articulate earlier today; I am the least empathetic person I know. I regurgitate facts. I have a good memory for facts, but so what? Perhaps the image that has been coming off these past few days has been misleading; I am not as well read as you think. I have hardly read as many literary classics as you have implied. I bits and pieces of what’s happening in class because I love mythology, and have made some kind of hobby to read up on it. If Wikipedia did not exist I would know next to nothing. By the end of this course, we would be evenly matched. What then to be envious about? I am envious of your passion for music, for art and how even at your lowest you still find the strength to stand back up. I am not a passionate being; I have many interests but none that I am truly master of. You are flawed and so is everyone else. You are special, and creative, and wonderfully present in life. You have an honesty about you and how you live your life that I envy. I wish I knew of ways to help bring some cheer into your life, but as I said, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what people want to hear. 

there are days where I wake up and I wonder who I am. I know who I am supposed to be. I think I'll never figure out who I am.


On an unrelated note, I make an awesome oven baked chicken.