Change and Existence...

Growing up things were always changing. I remember so much that was different in me back then, I remember so many ways in which I changed and then changed again. But there were some changes that brought sorrow. There was breaking of bonds, brutal imposition of new feelings, a sudden loss of people I felt so near to me. Those things that were so new and precious, as a child I did not know they could be reformed, maybe made stronger, that there could be others. There were more changes, and there were more scars. In the end I started to hate change in itself; even if it meant something better, brought me closer to what I wanted. I resent change now, even though I grow more depressed and more frustrated with my current state each day. I want change, yet I detest it. Maybe that is why I find it so hard to place my first step in the direction I want. Maybe that is why I can’t even sense the direction I want.

I watched something that touched on existentialism. My world is my own; it is inseparable from my being. It is my interpretations and what I do is entirely my doing. And as the philosophy says, with my awareness of my self I do feel an inseparable sense of anxiety, of dread; of the responsibility I face, of a feeling that I am utterly alone and there can never truly be someone else in ‘my’ world. Maybe the depression I feel myself sinking into ever so frequently now is just a facet of my existence. My world is what I want it to be, and if I am unhappy it is my doing. It is my fault that I can’t imagine my own paradise and change the world I see to fit that image. It is just because I do not know what I want that I cannot be happy, it is not the fault of God, or Satan or any other being…a dejecting thought…I do not want to believe it…for it would mean terrible change…