I am in conflict. I do not simply live and breathe. I am aware. I consider. I contemplate. I reflect. I process. I am human because I have decisions, and the unpredictability of these decisions is what humanizes me. My compiled decisions are what makes me the individual, as makes each individual his or her compiled decisions.
Some people make their decisions out of subconscious habit, as if they are on autopilot, unaware of their effects. I am not this way. I have had to learn how to be less aware of how my choices might affect people in order that I might function better. Though, inherently, I am still just as aware. I can turn it off only temporarily before the weight of the consequences of my decisions invades my mind. This conflict, being pulled internally in different directions, has no end. The end–could it exist–is irrelevant. The being pulled, the process, the way I respond and how I sort all of this, that is all I have.
I am, as well, inherently expressive. I cannot sit still with anything unresolved or unattended. If something is lurking beneath the surface, I do not have peace until it has been exposed, expressed, pursued, articulated, addressed, or any way of getting what is inside on the outside. I don’t know why. I don’t know for what I reason I function the way I do, but I am learning the way I function.
This project is, ironically, selfish. It exists so I can breathe, so I can function, so I can be as I am. It is ironic because I am far from selfish. I am not bragging, or proclaiming to be some divinity or some hero. In fact, my altruism has been dysfunctional… useless. It has made me weak, weary, and tired, and with little reward.
In reflection, I contemplate the usefulness of altruism against the finite value of narcissism, and where these two can be balanced in the middle, if they even can be. Behind every motive, every decision I make, every intention, there is an unanswered question that torments me: Do I live for myself, or do I live for someone else?
“Someone else” could be a divinity, an individual, humanity as a whole, or any person I come in contact with. Through all of my experiences, my beliefs, my reconsiderations, my reflections and seemingly endless revelations, I cannot seem to find the answer. But even if there is no answer, due to my inherent function, I cannot cease to pursue it.
Here will be found the pieces of my process; the internal pulls of the weight of my decisions; the “outside” manifestation of what is happening on the inside. I am not here to try to change you, to persuade, to convince, to alter, to control, or to prove anything to anyone. I am here to ask the questions no one is asking, because I am forced to ask myself those questions by nature.
I didn’t ask for some divine fate, or to be anything special. I didn’t request my identity, or make an offer on my personhood. I am who I am, and I have mixed feelings about it.
Truth comes at a heavy price. I am not some savior or hero or role model because I pursue truth, but I will pay what it costs. It will cost me to be authentic. It will cost me to be blunt and straightforward. It will cost me to be offensive. It will cost me to ask things people want to neither ask nor know the answer to. But my only hope for peace is to pursue truth, at whatever cost it comes.
I hope for a time in my life when my spirit can sit still, but I am uncertain it is ever supposed to be that way.