Here I am, approaching the end of the high school life and I am now wondering on things that I have thought I knew. But now I am starting to wonder how I truly know anything about myself and my feelings.
As throughout my high school career, I have thought, pondered and done, and then thought and pondered some more. And throughout some thinking and then through some playing I had found little flinches and inconsistencies with my self as a human and it makes me feel like I am a fight between so close to other people and yet so solely alive in my flesh prison.
Every day, month, year I would wake up eager to become the person I see myself being. But with all this thought in the future, it only just occurred to me that I have quiet set up my life to be exactly how I would have desired it to be, a year, two years, five years ago. In this state I feel torn between existing and bursting, allowing and extending, receiving and understanding.
And now as I think forward, I wonder what is my next step in the person who I want to be? How do I truly know who I am? How do I know what colour I like? Or don’t like? How do I know anything about myself at all? Being perplexed with my own existence is nothing new to me. But with all these complications, it is so hard to pull away the fuzz in my mind polluting, outside distraction as I once again start the journey of peeling the world down to become the exact person I hope to be five years from now. And wake up every day a little closer to living the way I wish to be.
I have learned, but not yet accepted, there are ways to know what I want myself to be, what I feel like I am and where I am going using only my body as a reminder that it knows best. Well first there are perhaps the signals from my body, the automatic responses that happens. Like when I look at the one I love I feel warmth in my body and some flushness in my cheeks.
I can assume that that is because my brain likes this person. (But then how do I know that my body knew to react like that? Is it because of something beyond my conscious mind, and if it is beyond my control is it truly me?)
I think of this so frequently, it feels like a dream on the cusp of a spiritual awakening but instead an existential nightmare. For now, it has been easier to look at the world on the outside and see what that means about my being on the inside. To see, and be seen as the clowns say.
Perhaps I will become a clown. If something makes me mouth water, it is a tasty food. If my lungs are light and with little gaps of sound, it is funny. Perhaps if people tell me I am this, or that, I can choose to listen and become what I wish to be in between.
And perhaps, some things are not meant to be thought about but only accepted.
And perhaps, thinking about this is a tiny piece of my identity that is made up with more than just chemicals and fluids but the little miracles of experience that had transformed my brain from organ to soul.