In the blink of an eye.

Yesterday was labor day. Normally I would have gone to the creek behind my house, waded in the water, ran through the woods, and taken photos. I would have gone on a bike ride. I would have flown down the streets with the wind in my hair, the new Arcade Fire album on, thinking a mile a minute.  I would have smiled, laughed, and felt.  But the moments and feelings that have defined my days are now completely insignificant. I have been stripped of all momentary pleasure. I have been broken down to the point of complete reevaluation. This is me allowing you to watch the process.


I am writing this for you. I am writing this for mankind. But I am writing specifically to the teenagers. I am one of you. We wake up in the morning and live. When we ask ourselves why, the honest answer is a simple one. We get up because there is something in the day for us. We have naturally built a life of pleasure for ourselves. We have made ourselves comfortable so that we never have to ask ourselves just what exactly the true purpose is in opening our eyes, getting up, and going to school. We do it because we train ourselves to want to. We know that if we don't, there are consequences. At some point in the day, we know something good will happen. There is a piece of our day that we allow ourselves to set as a reason breathe, whether we know it or not. We subconsciously make life something that we want. Why? because we are stuck in it. Naturally, when one is stuck somewhere, they make it as pleasant as possible for themselves. We are stuck on Earth. So we gradually adapt to the enjoyment we can find around us to reach a place of comfort and satisfaction. We seek various pleasures and settle for them, convincing ourselves that they are enough. We do not know any better other than to constantly feed ourselves with these things. For if we did not, we would find ourselves panicking about our confined situation. We are greatly nurtured by this life of ignorant continuity. We think we own the streets we walk on. We walk home in the same direction, pass the same houses, and think the same things. We answer the same questions with the same answers to the same people. Your mother looks at you and says "dinner at seven." and you say, "okay." It has become a pattern. We are not frequently strained, we are not frequently questioned. We are independent souls moving toward a meaningless death. We have become robots who subconsciously know they are more, but are not aware enough to admit it. We insist upon sustaining our own minds for fear of feeling empty. We continue this pattern because it is all we see- all we know. It is what we are surrounded by. But don't you see? In this pattern, we clearly establish a direction that we are not going. We shove ourselves with pleasure to fill a void. Filling that void is what we have come to be about. But filling in the right way? That's a completely different story. One that I hope to tell. One that I hope you'll listen to.








(to be continued)