When I was a youngster - younger than I am now; elementary-school-aged - I used to lie awake in bed and wonder at my own existence. I never had anything to do, really, so I never got tired and I never slept. I would lie awake in bed with my unfocused eyes pointed heavenward and just let myself be amazed at how my particular soul got put in my particular body. I would touch my hands together and think about how I could have been born with fins or wings or claws. I could have had no body at all. It is only by some bizarre twist of fate that I happen to experience existence in this particular way.

I can't do that anymore. I've so thoroughly accepted the way I am and the way I feel things that even though I remember the sensation I got when I thought that way, I can't recreate the actual thoughts. I was thinking this afternoon in English about how I've created my own world, and I've accepted as absolute truths concepts for which I have no proof. A couple of years ago, I made a choice. It wasn't a permanent one, I don't think, but I've been living with it. I recognized the fact that, in that grand scheme of things, nothing REALLY matters. Pain is just pain. Death is just death, and there is no point in trying to change or better anything, really. But it hurts to think that way, and there would be no point in living if that were the case. I considered, briefly, whether I shouldn't just kill myself. But I didn't want to. For whatever reason, I just didn't want to die. So I made the decision to create my own reality. I practice double-think. I realize that nothing REALLY matters, but I make myself believe that certain things are extremely important. It's important that we end suffering. It's important that I get a good education. It's important that I be good to people. I know these things aren't important, but it makes me feel good to say that they are. So I believe them while not believing them. Is that okay? Is it alright to consciously deny reality?

I know. It doesn't matter.

posted at 10:38 PM by Alison

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