This morning, I walked through my university’s halls completely aware. I was aware of my hair; 2/5ths of it have to be on the front, 3/5ths on the back. I was aware of the transparency of people, therefore aware of their personality. I was aware of my car keys in my bag. I was aware of where I came from. I was aware of what I’ve done but I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t understand how, even with this level of awareness, little things slipped through my fingers like water. And I would never, ever know what those things were. And that, my dear Watson, pisses me off.
You know that feeling of gratification you get when you know why things happen? Why you do? Why you feel? And then ask yourself why didn’t you listened before, why were you so blind, or why didn’t anyone comment on it before?
Artists nowadays don’t like methodology; don’t like rules. They will just throw the idea out there. I consider myself creative and I also consider artists troubled, for unhealthily getting deeper into humanity and discover things that they (ATTENTION) do not know (doesn't make sense, huh?). A while ago I merged myself into a world that I thought was completely appalling: Learning how to feel. I refused, being the artistic soul that I was, I couldn’t do it. I’ve written my best lines in times of need and I was completely afraid of losing what I thought was ‘me’. I was right in my mind. But I was wrong in others. And bam. Feelings explosion.
Feelings explosion is something I realized that happens in my everyday life. My life, artistic or not, was like an experiment. I had to make it an experiment in order to be able to solve my questions. I saw patterns, and one of those was my least favorite, the “feelings explosion”. Every time I felt too much, I thought too less. It is metaphorically a giant explosion in my head. I would just babble and walk around, almost sick to my stomach. Why? Why can’t I just order my head like a library? This section feelings, this section wishes, this section thoughts, this section memory. Why do I instead order it like messy post-its everywhere? Why isn’t my mind over my control? Isn’t it supposed to be MY mind, not my evil apathy's? Or even more confusing: Why if I have my own mind, I created my own evil side? Why would somebody do that to themselves?
This is where religion strikes in. A higher power. Evil trying to pull me in. That’s it. Problem solved. I don’t want to get into religion much because, to be honest, I’d be hypocritical because I’m completely ignorant of it. I just accept it; after all, that’s why people aren’t really uncomfortable with doubt. But thanks to my ignorance and complete indifference to religion, I don’t just stay in religion. I go way further.
For the past few years I’ve heard different points of view from different famous theorists around the world. Knowledge only makes things harder, because when other people choose to believe certain theories, I find truth in them all. For example, I believe humans are not evil by nature, but do have the tendency to be, mainly with oneself. And that makes me believe they are evil by nature.
The truth is just a big salad of opinions. I find myself agreeing with everyone and forming my own little, everything salad (with a side of me). But then, in the middle of this, I ask myself: “Why do I need to know it?” Because to be honest, I’m fine. I don’t need to trouble myself with questions. I think I would rather live happily forever instead of waste time having doubt. Ignorance IS bliss.
But that leads to another thought and mildly introduced as my theory; that perfection leads to nothing and no where. This will sound cliché and I’m sure you all have heard it before that without evil, good wouldn’t be here to fight it. Without feeling sad, we wouldn’t know how feeling good feels. When something’s gone that you never had, you’re numb. It doesn’t affect you. Therefore, if humanity was completely perfect, we’d be good looking zombies. Feelings for me are a synonym of imperfection. And I'm not saying that that is bad.
My point is: these last months I’ve understood why I shouldn’t know. And what things I should. I should know the things I’m passionate about to make them closer to perfection so everyone would feed off it. I shouldn’t know why I’m passionate about it.
So humanity is weird. I’ve asked myself so many times why people are mean to each other when you have the choice to be good. And the thing is, everything evil you project, you will get. But boy A just doesn’t give a damn and boy B is bitter because of people not giving a damn. You’re always feeling, but people ignore it. And boy A and boy B should be friends. You don’t know how others are thinking. For all we know, some people think with unimaginable things, while we think like we do. For all we know, people look at shapes differently than we do. We’ll never know how different one mind is from another. And there’s definitely no use in dwelling in something you either can’t change or won’t ever know.
Xoxo - Mercy