Day 58
I do fear, sometimes, that the act of pondering aloud has become a cathartic experience and nothing more. It is hard in this town to find a diversity of thought, because we've all been raised in very similar ways with the same norms, experiences, and conventions. I find that the mightiest opinions of some of the the twentysomethings I know are so damningly narrow that they cannot possibly stand to the slightest breeze of doubt.
Often the biggest theory is the thinnest. Our shadows grow long and starved moments before they disappear under the sunset. The natural world has cursed us with its indifference, its vaccuum of conscience in which deeds neither good nor evil subsist. I find the urge to view our species of conscious and conscientious beings as alien. It is as though the world we inhabit was never intended for us to inhabit it.
In short, this town is a box. This country, political system, individualistic ideology, humanist dogma, faux rebellion against imagined authority; it is all a box floating along countless boxes, meekly bumping its way down time's river. I feel stuck inside it, while people say that we're on the outside; that we're on the valley's crest, looking down upon the river like gods.
Sometimes I feel a bump, if only slight. And sometimes, in moments of solitude, I cannot avoid the tingling suspicion that a waterfall approaches.
Often the biggest theory is the thinnest. Our shadows grow long and starved moments before they disappear under the sunset. The natural world has cursed us with its indifference, its vaccuum of conscience in which deeds neither good nor evil subsist. I find the urge to view our species of conscious and conscientious beings as alien. It is as though the world we inhabit was never intended for us to inhabit it.
In short, this town is a box. This country, political system, individualistic ideology, humanist dogma, faux rebellion against imagined authority; it is all a box floating along countless boxes, meekly bumping its way down time's river. I feel stuck inside it, while people say that we're on the outside; that we're on the valley's crest, looking down upon the river like gods.
Sometimes I feel a bump, if only slight. And sometimes, in moments of solitude, I cannot avoid the tingling suspicion that a waterfall approaches.
Comments
Flee from the box.
You're meant for bigger and brighter things, and it'd be folly to think that they'd all be found convienantly for you here.
- Vicky