I’m struggling to express the emotions that exist between words. My feeling is a strange one – something that exists in a definite sense but manages to avoid being pinned down by words and definitions. It’s ethereal and fleeting, yet thick and so real. If I were to try to capture this sensation in a word, I would use the word bored.
Bored. Bored. Bored. It’s a word that exists only fleetingly. When one says the word “bored”, it explodes out all at once then evaporates into silence. Other words are long like “Difficult”, or fade out as they are said like “Silence”. But bored is a momentary explosion of sound.
That’s how my life is. Like the word bored. Momentarily explosions of enjoyment. Then nothing – just void. I live for those moments; my body is always ready to explode with energy when they come. Why wouldn’t it be? I have nothing to do during my downtime except wait for the next rush.
I have a desire to live in distant worlds. I want to experience the life and thoughts of those that exist on other planes. I want to know what it is like to live in ancient china, or to live homeless, etc. I always want to hear the true side of others who are different to me. I want to hear their problems, joys, ways of thinking, ideas of beauty, what they are yearning from, their nostalgia. This distracts me from the monotony that defines my own life.
When I think about this, I can't help but feel I am imprisoned in my own life. I want to push limits, I want to have experiences that make me wonder "What the fuck?". I want to break stuff. I want to fight someone. I want to see just how fucked up things can get when we push on things that shouldn't be pushed. Every time I stumble across an unusual situation or person, I have a compulsion to observe and get closer.
I think this style of thinking is toxic in some ways, because it defies the rules that allows society to exist. And of course I would never break these rules, because I legitimately love and respect people. People are what make everything what it is. Manufactured goods, stories, books, the internet; everything that exists that gives defintion to our lives originates from the people.