Eddie (edminster) wrote,

  • Mood:

Draw when you are happy, Write when you are sad.

I must take stock of my life right now. To be honest, it is not unfolding at all the way I expected it to.

I have fairly systematically destroyed my life. I don't know why, but people who have known me for a while tend to believe that it is a pathological need for failure. For some unknown reason, I am only happy with myself when I am trashing my life. I am most at peace when I am doing things that are absolutely the worst thing for me to be doing.

I don't know why I self-sabotage. All I know is that whenever things are going incredibly well for me, I get restless. It's not something I consciously do. I just seem to get myself into situations that can only end incredibly badly. When my life is out of my control, I feel safe. That's not to say that I want people to take care of me; to become a ward of the State. No, I feel like I will truly be happy when I am not certain if I will survive the day.

Maybe Freud was right, and that everyone has an urge for self-destruction. If so, my actions seem to dictate that I desire oblivion more than most. And yet that runs counter to everything I have been raised to believe in. I was raised to believe that people are kind and generous. That every day is a blessing. That I should go out and make a difference in the World.

I have a lot of minor phobias, but only one true thing that I fear above all else. Deep down inside, all that I fear is that my life is without meaning. The need to make my mark on the world is so deep-rooted that I fear being forgotten. I don't want to die and have not made a positive change in the world. I suppose one could say the quote 'Be the change you want to see in the World' is my personal motto. It certainly fits me, and I want to do so.

Unfortunately, I seem to set expectations for myself that I cannot reach. I hold myself to a standard that is unreasonable to ask of any but the most selfless. I essentially try to hold myself to the standard of Ghandi and Christ. There is no way that I can be as good and pure as they were, and it hurts me to admit it. Knowing that I cannot be the kind of people they were destroys me inside.

Which may explain my apparent need to destroy myself. If I cannot be like they, what is the point of existing at all? And besides, look at how they both ended up: murdered. Do I really want that? I don't think so. I want to make people understand that there is more to life than bickering and getting ahead of the other guy. I want to make people see that kindness is it's own reward. I want to show people that it is possible to get along with those whose actions you despise.

Everyone is good, deep down inside. I believe that, with all my heart. Wow, but I strayed from my original topic. And I've kinda stopped having the urge to write for now. So, um... I'll just... go...

Peace, everyone.

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