Taming the beast

I spent so much life pondering about my life. You know, the usual existential questions like: "WHY?" (and also the egoistical "why me?"), or "I didn't chose to be born," and also the super boring "What am I going to do with this life"?

I think I've spent too much time on this kind of thing. It's just undecidable, after all. There's nothing to do. Complaining about it doesn't really help on anything. Neither does thinking about it too much. It might sound a bit stupid. I mean, it's pretty simple: Do not worry about your life. Live it. This kind of discourse usually bores me. Especially when it's enacted by people who don't really have any authority on the matter (but who does?) or just think they know me but they don't. And, anyway, what is "me"? Gosh! This question. Pure Ego. I should get rid of it. And I think that somehow I did get rid of it. At least, it seems like it's not on the way anymore. Good.

I just realized that I'm the only thing that is keeping me from fulfilling my own desires. Yes, desires. Another Ego-thing. But the idea is more about taming the "I" than denying its existence. So, what is "me"? Well, I don't know, and it's fine. I'm something/someone right now, and will be something/someone different in a second, and was someting/someone different a second ago. So let's do whatever I can/want to do, no matter what I think of it. These fears, let's keep them constrained. They don't really do me any good. They just are. So, once again, tame them.

Living my life is much easier than what I thought. Don't pay too much attention to the social factor. It's there, its nature is contingent, and therefore is not reliable. People are here. I'll take whatever I can from them. I'll give them whatever I can, too. I think that being social is probably what helped me understand this. Maybe I reached the goal I had, after all?

Gosh! It took me something like 25 years to realize that. What took me so long? I don't know. When I think of this, I see gloom, depression, unhapiness. None of these matter. Does happiness matter? Well, maybe I'm not ready to give this up. But do I need to know when I'm happy or not? Probably not.

Also, the amazing thing is that I feel that literature helped me a lot on this. Well, there is still a lot to read out there. It's just the beginning. And it's not like reading a book triggered an epiphany or something. I guess all this happened in my mind more than in texts. The brain is a great entity, it is able to internalize everything it could get an hand on and produces something which is quite not tangible. So, let's leave the mystery to neuroscientists. Their discourse is useful.

The funny thing is that I became extremely verbose all of a sudden. Why wasn't I able to write so much before? I remember times when I would face my own inability to write, even if I excruciatingly felt the need to write, but couldn't produce anything good, or anything at all. Well, I have this new "skill," it's helpful. It does things. And I guess I should transmit its outcome. Now.