It's a matter of perspectives

I really shouldn't be blogging. I have chem, maths, bio and econs homework to do. I really should not be blogging.

GP lesson was rather interesting and thought provoking. A surreal desire for no accountability and total freedom is a view and a desire that's probably innate in everyone. However, the ironic part is that though these desires exist because of the people's existence, it cannot be achieved because of our very existence which conflicts with the ideology. The social structure of civilisation and society has made our lives so intertwined together that even a hermit living in a mountain are still subjected to restrictions on freedom and held accountable for his actions. Hence, to pursue freedom is a foolish one, even though one can hope.

Something is bogging me, and I can't quite place a finger to it.

I'm horrified. I question- am I living in reality? What exactly is reality? In this world, what is real? Suddenly, everything seems to surreal to me. My mind's a fog. It's like I'm living in a dream world that I'm trapped in. Are the emotions that I'd experienced for real? Many stuff appears so fragile to me, just like the evasiveness of a dream such that I'll forget everything when I wake up. The purpose of existence... am i existing? Am I really breathing, living, walking, thinking, talking- or is everything just a part of nothing? Am I alive or simply a walking corpse?

Don't talk to me about Gods or any other higher beings. Preach to me that we're a tiny tank called universe that some major giant manipulates like we do to pet hamsters and turtles and their habitats... and I may agree with it. Tell me that someone created us and we have our lives and paths set for us on the day we were born... and I would ask you to preach holiness somewhere else. I'd always had that firm belief that those higher beings are a figment of imagination constructed by people who need a pillar to lean on and escape to when they need it. I have no qualms about other people believing in it, just don't come telling a skeptic like me to believe in them.

Relationships... I give a bitter laugh at the mere mention of the word. To me, they are more fragile than anything else in the world. Even a newborn baby might just be stronger than these. Too much bad memories, perhaps. Or maybe I'd only remembered the bad ones and forgotten all the good.

Attachment..... it is a human craving and need to be touched. To be touched and cuddled and hugged like you're the most precious thing in the entire world. To feel like you're safe in the embrace- and in the moment you're invincible because you're protected and someone is always to catch you when you fall. What you feel is that you could soar to the highest skies even with broken wings, that you belong somewhere to someone in this cold, lonely world, that you're loved. It's a sad sad feeling to know that you're alone and no one is there for you; no matter how rotten you're feeling; no matter how much you wanted to share the joy of a success; no matter how much you feel like crying; no matter how broken you are...

In fact... there's no word to describe the pain of it... it's something worse that being very sad. It's an extreme that would be surpassed; far beyond the edge of the emotional cliff.

And I confess. I confess that I feel jealous whenever I see friends enjoying themselves and basking in each other's warmth. I feel jealous whenever I see couples being in love. I feel jealous whenever I see families who spend happy times together. I feel jealous whenever people talk about all the branded stuff and goods they have and when they complain that they didn't like what they have. I confess that I had a bad childhood. I confess that I occasionally think that I need to see a counsellor. I confess that I feel unfair at why I was born into a poor family. I confess that I hate to be looked down upon or pitied or being treated as charity. I confess that I hate those expectant eyes that tell me I need to do better because I'm not utilising my full potential. But most of all I confess that I hate people who trample on my pride and manipulate me like a puppet, and people who do cowardly things like backstab simply because they do not have the courage to face up to people for fear of discovering that they may be wrong in their thought or action or to achieve what they can with their own prowess.

I admit. My life is built on ego, pride, expectations and selfish desires, but there's always more to it than what the superficial gives. However, it is exactly my pride, ego and expectations who had made my life's worth now.

What was done to me created me.