Be what you are
What happened to our youth?
I know that there was a time when I felt more alive than I feel right now. I was more passionate, more exited about being alive. I didn’t make better decisions, but I enjoyed the results of my decisions more. Who is this bland kind of depressed person who’s skin I’m living in today?
I’ve followed this question with other people for some years now, and the people who can relate to the sentiment have offered a number of reasons that this feeling would happen.
One obvious issue is just getting older — I have physically less energy than I used to. Another is that I have been really disappointed by various things, losing love, being betrayed on the job, having dreams crushed in a variety of ways.
But when I look over my notebooks — my current notebooks and poems and scribblings from what I can tell — I really like the person who I am. The person who I am intellectually — the person who has been shaped by these events is still fully present in my words. But I do not feel him in my bones — I see the words on paper — the books and bands that I like the art that I like.
But none of those things are in my life.
For whatever reason — I have wandered into a life that does not reflect the person who I am. And I don’t think that this is a question of where I live or my work or anything like that — but more a question of how I act and what I say from moment to moment. In any given moment — the person who is living inside me is not moving his arms in conjunction with the person who is outside of me. I feel that my clothing is questionable. My facial expressions and gestures. I feel crushed down into these moderate exhalations of myself — I am cowardly.
I think that this is the real problem. I am living, in the moment, out of integrity with myself in some fundamental way, and the weight of that is tiring me.
I need to BE WHO I AM.
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