3.26.2013

How is Life Meant to be Lived?

"I suppose it was never just a part of my life; it's a permanent part of who I am. I thought it was over, but really I've just learned to push it away, behind other things. I'm good at that sort of thing, you know - making things seem like something they're not. I even fooled myself." She stared straight forward at the wall, unsure whether she was upset or not.  "I don't usually get that feeling of infinite loneliness anymore, but it manifests itself in different ways - as frustration, usually, or fear, or failure, and sometimes loneliness, just not as bad.  There are these images of myself on my death bed, utterly unfulfilled - it's terrifying, especially to think that I have no control."
He wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her close. Nestling his chin lightly on her shoulder he stared at the wall right along with her. After a few moments, "I think that's what makes you special," he said quietly. "You have this amazing ability to think about the world in all these different ways. Sure, sometimes you get like this, but don't think of it as a resurgence. I know it's hard - "
"I feel trapped. I feel like I'm trapped in a world I don't belong in," her words came out sharp.  "I don't understand how the world has gotten this way. It makes no sense to me, really.  I've taken history courses, I know what happened, but it makes me so angry that the people before me have created a world in which progress and regulation are more important than enjoyment.  I know I don't have to follow social norms, but it's so hard to think outside of the way I've been molded to think. I want to go somewhere new and see what's out there, do something amazing, spend my time unconventionally just to see what life could be, but my mind tells me I can't,  I have other responsibilities, and you don't just drop everything in your life and go do what you want. But, why?  I've been blessed with life; how, or by what or who, I don't know, but I've been given a life, and I feel like I'm wasting it, all the time.  I want to do more with it."
They lay close together for a long time, their eyes moving across the textured bumps on the wall.  She focused on the sound of the gentle pounding of his heart up against her back, and the repositioning of his chin on her shoulder as he swallowed occasionally.  He felt her chest rise and fall, lifting his arm up and down with each breath.
"So then do more."  Those words ringing out from his soothing voice made it seem so easy, as if she really could just get up off of the bed and go anywhere in the world.
"Maybe."  She thought about it.  "What if the way I'm feeling now is actually a product of society, too?  Maybe I don't have to have an exciting, fast paced life.  I enjoy small things, too.  Our world is so bent on doing so much all at once, never taking time to relax.  Maybe I don't have to explore the world to find what I need.  There are people out there who are laying on a cement floor looking at a dirty wall wishing they could go out and find a life like mine, where they could nestle themselves into a soft bed and feel safe because someone they love is holding them."
"That's very true."
"It's hard, you know?  To figure out how to live your life.  To know how to spend your time, where to put your energy."  She turned toward him, looking into his eyes.  "With all the things society tells me, it's really hard to find myself underneath it all.  I don't really know what I should be wanting, let alone what I should be doing.  Maybe I need to get up and go find adventure, or maybe I need to cherish this moment as it is.  Maybe I'll never find myself.  Maybe I'm not meant to."
"Maybe."

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