growing up
so i am now in the contemplation, almost as a matter of my brain, am now, my ever inconclusive contemplations in the contemplation of growing up.
i used to write when i was 15. id write about people, my day to way grievences, wonderments, crushes. somewhere along the way, the journal was read, and i found that to put words to thoughts was very dangerous business.
so ever since, my words come out only at the precipice, only at the peak of their excess. the rest flows in conversations with strangers, in discussion boards, on email, other places, safe from prying eyes. and this opening process plagues me. i have to reconverge with it every time. goodness how difficult it becomes to verbalize, over time, the process of undulating transformation...
the older i get, the younger i act..
it has become this massive quandry, the question of when we are supposed to grow up. i waste so much time and money, and have little to show for it. but this fact rarely bothers me. what is that about, and why perpetuate a non working cycle? i guess its because i have fun doing it.
how much is fun worth in the end though?
yes my big issue in life, is the fact that i understand that all of this material gain and loss is completely insignificant in the face of experience. so i experience, and experience, and experience some more...
its always in the end about a decision.
that said, what am i deciding?
a fog i walk. in a fog, i simply cultivate more and more fog.
the metaphors would overwhelm you, given what ive been doing with myself these days.
and so sometimes i wonder about therapy. but all they are are a vessal for these words, no?
i KNOW it all, dont i? a pouty curly haired little girl stares back at me. in the mirror of the pit of my soul i watch her.
you promised! she says. you promised to never grow up.
and i haven't.
the real fear comes from the terrifying prospect that she was wrong. but its not that, i don't think.
i think i am just using this as an excuse.
its a tough uphill road you know
waking up, to smell the flowers.
i used to write when i was 15. id write about people, my day to way grievences, wonderments, crushes. somewhere along the way, the journal was read, and i found that to put words to thoughts was very dangerous business.
so ever since, my words come out only at the precipice, only at the peak of their excess. the rest flows in conversations with strangers, in discussion boards, on email, other places, safe from prying eyes. and this opening process plagues me. i have to reconverge with it every time. goodness how difficult it becomes to verbalize, over time, the process of undulating transformation...
the older i get, the younger i act..
it has become this massive quandry, the question of when we are supposed to grow up. i waste so much time and money, and have little to show for it. but this fact rarely bothers me. what is that about, and why perpetuate a non working cycle? i guess its because i have fun doing it.
how much is fun worth in the end though?
yes my big issue in life, is the fact that i understand that all of this material gain and loss is completely insignificant in the face of experience. so i experience, and experience, and experience some more...
its always in the end about a decision.
that said, what am i deciding?
a fog i walk. in a fog, i simply cultivate more and more fog.
the metaphors would overwhelm you, given what ive been doing with myself these days.
and so sometimes i wonder about therapy. but all they are are a vessal for these words, no?
i KNOW it all, dont i? a pouty curly haired little girl stares back at me. in the mirror of the pit of my soul i watch her.
you promised! she says. you promised to never grow up.
and i haven't.
the real fear comes from the terrifying prospect that she was wrong. but its not that, i don't think.
i think i am just using this as an excuse.
its a tough uphill road you know
waking up, to smell the flowers.
posted by sheloves at 3:19 PM
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