Thoughts & Ramblings

"It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see."
Henry David Thoreau 

A stare down with 'art'.

Human life is consisted out of contradictions and thoughts that cannot be formed into adequate words.  I can't speak for the entire human race, but I feel I lead a life of trying to describe my thoughts, feelings, and emotions, only to fail miserably, though probably sometimes for the best.

One day I can feel so minuscule, as if I'm a speck of dust on a speck of insignificant dust floating through the universe, numb and irrelevant.  Other times I am so overcome with my own selfishness.  I feel as though every thought I produce has some meaningful value.  And I actually feel invigorated by this feeling bubbling through my veins.  It is a lonely and powerful feeling, and I like the taste.

It is fatiguing to fluctuate between feeling like a forgotten shell of ambition and almost unwillingly inspired to do everything and anything before anyone else has the chance.  I know that I should be floating somewhere between these two extremes, but I've never really been good with moderation.  I either feel it, and feel it all in every sense of the word, or I am cozily indifferent.  Just because someone has the quirk of the lips at a conversation or lets a few tears slip in moments of weakness, doesn't mean it resonates in their bones.

Too add to my own selfishness, it is increasingly difficult for me to imagine other people being burdened by these thoughts.  Do these thoughts infect other people?  Why doesn't anyone talk about these ideas that riot in my mind's secret places?

Fear of vulnerability or lack of understanding?

I will admit it's difficult for me to place adequate words on my tongue and even more of a burden for me to push them past my teeth and hear how they ring against the silence.

This is especially true as I am always taken aback when I consciously think about how everyone has their very own personalities, thoughts, ideas, dreams, and biases.  No matter how bland or eccentric, they posses something that only they can fully grasp.  I can't understand why that is such a difficult concept to come to terms with, but I struggle beside myself.  It is almost frightening to look, really look, at a person and come to the realization that they are in fact a person.  They have their own private inner spheres flourishing in a location that only they know the directions to.  An impossible, unreachable place.

I don't know if it's more terrifying to gaze into the eyes of a perfect stranger or a good friend and wonder what thoughts consume them.

This may be because I know too well what thoughts and fears nip at the vulnerable parts of my brain.  I am too familiar with thoughts that only I can ponder in the privacy of my abstract self.

The thought of someone having similar thoughts, one that can never be put into words, or even more disturbingly, the same thoughts, makes me unapologetic and uncomfortable in my very self.