Makyo

I know I am getting a little weird.

Trying to find answers in the most unlikely of places. The turmoil that’s my mind, the carefully cultivated peacefulness I maintain outside.  The controlled chaos.

The trillion questions. The whirlwind in my head. Trying to find the answers. Trying to make sense of this mess that is life.

The unexamined life , is not worth living?

Online classrooms. Strangers in other continents. People like you and me. Finding answers together.

I feel weird. But also a little content.

There might be answers. Or peace. Or both. I don’t know. I wish I did.

The older I get, the more complicated life seems, but I can make peace with some complications. Like death. I think. I know it’ll happen and I might not get scared.

In the meantime,  I am just trying to make sense . To me. I am trying to discard the bad and separate the good . Trying not to let other people’s notions of what is good and bad define me. I am trying not to let people dictate how  I should live my life, trying to close doors that no longer lead somewhere, trying to let go, trying to hold on , trying not to let other people pressurize me into living their lives. Trying to let go of the shallow, ( oh how the shallow bother me ), let go of the people who like to play the upper hand.

I most certainly want to let go of the hypocrites. And the mysterious. I don’t want to waste my time with them. Time is such a luxury. Isn’t it?

Someday maybe. Some day, I’ll have some peace. Some day, my thoughts will no longer bother me, or I will not feel the constant need to find answers . Maybe I’ll have enough discipline to pick my battles. Even if it’s only in my head.

Some days, I stand my ground and smile. Even though I feel like throwing chairs at people . Some days I go along with tradition, because tradition is nice. Other days, I am trying to find the person I want to be. I can now discard everything that’s given to me, material and not so much, but I can’t seem to discard the expectations. They weigh me down.

The unexamined life . Is not to be lived.

 

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