A Pseudo-Philosophical Musing on the Nature of Being


I’ve been really drawn to creative non-fiction lately. I also saw a friend’s post and was inspired to join HitRecord. This is the first piece I put on the site, as part of their “writer’s challenge”.  It was done rather quickly, due to a deadline:

A piece of me gone
Where, where
where did it go?
A gradual whirlwind

There’s conflict within me
How do I handle what has become?
the slow, morose ticking time bomb
of life’s fantasies

Am I the man I supposed to be? And what does that even mean? I often wonder how we quantify the phrase “growing up”? By many accounts I am an adult; by several others I most certainly am not. Sure, I pay rent, but that does not mean I am financially stable. Far from it. Yes, I have had several romantic partners; the end result being I am still shitty at love, or anything vaguely resembling it.

Love, loss, sadness, friendship, sorrow, at times, even joy. These are all emotions I have come across in my life. Yet most of the time they felt hollow, fake, phony. So then what does this make me? A guy trying to figure it out I suppose. Simultaneously a man wanting to hold on to his childhood, yet a boy who wants to flash forward to times of better adult-ness.

Freedom vs. responsibility. That is what it comes down to for me. The freedom to be responsible yet having enough responsibility that I can be free. Responsible freedom. Or, if you prefer, free responsibility. I have experienced this, but it is not a constant. This feeling, like the majority of my life, is constantly evolving.

Teaching
The conflation and confabulation
of my two halves
Soaring responsibility, yet roaring freedom

Communication, (Or lack thereof)
The pressing nature of my needs
A language barrier persists
Figuring out this thing called life

Ultimately, the societal definition of adulthood is constantly changing; a revolving door of matter, responsibility, and status. Another generation has gotten older and with it, old ideas have become moot. Do we accept it and just move on? Do we fight to try and change it? Methinks the answer lies somewhere in the middle.

When the dust has settled
And the wind died away
Birdsongs sing softly in my ear
A new species has been born

Looking down upon the land
Our stories stretch across the sky
Connectivity is the ultimate truth
Peacefully knowing we all made it in the end

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