mahiwaga

Of course I'll start with a random tangent: I initially mispelled "transience" as "transcience," which is kind of interesting to those sufferring from logophilia. Transcience—that which is beyond knowledge, officially in the zone defined by Gödel's Incompleteness Theorem as that which is true but cannot be expressed as a mathematical truth using the rules of the particular system we are working in.

But, as usual, this is not where I want to go.

What is within me that so demands that the time I spend has a purpose? There is no reason why this should be so. I don't know why I can't just wander pointlessly around this world, trying to live only in the moment. Why can't I just exist like a mayfly: the simple cycle of birth, reproduction, and death. We live, we fuck, we die. The circle of life.

So to be here, in this purgatorial state, how do I know what I should do next? My superego demands that I do something here that I cannot do anywhere else. What that might be, who knows?

I feel like I'm waiting for inspiration while I stand here on the railroad tracks. I know that the train is going to come, but inspiration is another matter.

I wish I could find my equilibrium.

I am, once again, in a state of profound and very basic indecision. The existential crisis upon my back.

A part of me understands that all burdens are, to some extent, voluntary.

There is no reason to stay, but there is no reason to go. Inertia. Stasis. Entropy.

It does not matter.

Seriously though. I'm in a fog. I can't seem to focus. In a metaphysical sense, everything seems to be fluctuating in and out of my existential focal plane.

I'm pissed off at nothing in particular. This is a sign of brain damage for sure.

Ah, what a fucking waste.