I think life would be much easier if I didn't think so much. If I didn't constantly analyzes things and were content with viewing things, accepting things and writing things on the surface level, I wouldn't have this horendous burden of high expectations constantly placed upon my shoulders. My father wouldn't have to work his fingers to the bone, semi-literally to keep me in this institution of higher learning, and I wouldn't be overwhelmed with feelings of unworthiness...
Because I have no plans for the immediate or not so immediate future, I live day to day and hope that no one ever realizes that I am, on a whole, clueless about life in general. In this world of fast food, instant pregnancy tests and globalized news, I feel so inadequate, and sadly I know I’m not the only one. Although this fact should be what comforts me, it ultimately robs me of hope solely because I wonder: if I’m not the only one confused, why do I feel so alone? How do individuals live with never being certain of anything? Why do these individuals choose to act as though the world is their oyster when they are, in all actuality, a smidgen of matter in this immense universe?
Maybe the entire purpose of our existence is not to deny the truth, but to accept it and become comfortable enough with the implications of it to embrace each new day with open arms.
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