Spontaneous Reflections

Lately I’ve been having some trouble writing. For some reason I can’t seem to focus all of my thoughts on one thing. At times I get a nagging feeling that I need to write; I need to get something out. I hold the thought, reminding myself of it now and then until I’m at the right place and there’s nothing else to bother me while I lay my thoughts down, but as soon as I grab a pencil or boot up my computer my mind goes blank. Just now I’ve spent two whole hours at my desk, computer on and ready, all by myself, no distractions, no worries, no attachments, just me and my scattered thoughts. I’m writing this off the top of my head; I won’t risk trying to dig any deeper so I don’t end up somewhere else.

I had an entirely different subject to write about. I’ve been polishing it up in my mind for days, and now it’s gone. Lost somewhere inside of me, tangled up in my fears and anxieties, my passions and dreams. How terrifying is it that you spend every  second of your entire life in your own company, yet you are the most ignorant about yourself? You could be aware of the fact that there’s much more to you than you—or anyone else—know and still not be able to get a glimpse of what it could possibly be. I reckon that’s where my thoughts go when I don’t hold on to them properly or cannot put enough time and energy to sort them out. What if that’s why I’ve lost them? Could it be that because I am unable to devote the necessary time to myself, I reluctantly give up on myself? I mean, I am my thoughts, and if I can’t handle myself, i.e. my thoughts, do they just abandon me to where I have no access? My own self?

I wonder if there’s some way I could get to explore those places. How much better would it feel to know that you can go back to where everything you’ve ever given up about yourself lies? But at the same time, how dangerous could that be?

Is there a reason we have such limited knowledge and control over who we are? If everyone could instantly go back and forth between who they are and who they once were, the world would be in total chaos. Our tendency to abuse  ourselves psychologically through our extraordinary God-given capabilities could ruin us and our surrounding. It could put anything to an end. Maybe that’s why we’re not allowed to know what we have buried within us, if such a thing even exists, that is.

I don’t know who or what influenced this. I don’t even know why I’m even writing it on my blog for everyone to see. I said I was going to be writing things off the top of my head and here it is. How it transitioned to all this, I have no idea. I’m partly glad it came out like this. Two hours ago I was on the verge of losing my mind. At least now I know something’s still there, although I never even knew I had this in me the whole time.

I won’t go back and proofread it, mainly because I want to keep this spontaneous effect that it’s got. I’ll run it through the automatic proofreader for spelling and grammar errors if there are any, but I won’t change a word of its content.

It’s been quite liberating writing all of this, even though it might not make sense to anyone but myself. I don’t regret publishing this; I won’t regret being myself.


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