Measures are being taken to ensure success. The system will never be without flaws, but there have been safeties put in place to prevent catastrophes. The body is sentient and ever-changing, learning more and more each day. Research, maintenance, and adjustments will need to be made for the duration of the system's functioning. As long as performance remains above 0.1% the system is classified as "functioning." Performance will fluctuate with time and circumstance. Maintaining high levels of performance for long periods of time is not required or even ideal, for it may cause a sudden and steep drop in performance. Such drops can compound and harm long term functioning. Ideal percentages of performance for prolonged functioning are between 60-75%, with periodic spikes in both directions. With the specific nature of the system, it may be necessary to define performance. Performance is a multifaceted idea made of components that add up to the entire state known as "Performance." Performance consists of:
Movement
Kinetic, molecular, geographical, neural, ideological, or theoretical
Above all, the primary aspect affecting performance is "Happiness." Happiness functions as both a component and product of performance. When working to improve performance to better functioning, happiness should be directly targeted. Most resources used to support the system are focused on researching and bettering the happiness component. Recommended ways to maintain acceptable levels of happiness are as follow:
Exposure to felines
Exposure to music*
Creative endeavors
Expenditure of kinetic energy
Forward thinking
Thoughtful solitary walks, especially through cemeteries
Caffeine intake
Goal production, advancement, and achievement
*Music must be handled carefully due to it's subjective nature. Type and time are important to consider when trying to elevate happiness. Careless exposure to music may have the opposite effect and actually lower happiness levels. The ways in which these methods work, as well as ways of improving them, are being investigated. Simultaneously new strategies of obtaining happiness are being studied. The goal is to maximize the effects of happiness-inducing events and to have said events be numerous enough to be available as often as possible. It should also be noted that pure happiness is not feasible to experience at all times or for prolonged durations. Such consistency should not be expected. It is natural for happiness to drop occasionally and actually allows the system to optimize it's functioning. These moments permit the system to recalibrate and make any necessary readjustments, all part of it's sentient and changing nature. However, very low levels of happiness for long periods of time are detrimental to performance and long term functioning. For more information, see System Manual v.1.4 pp. 10-132.
What sort of creature have I become, so wont for seclusion? Those that I eagerly called friends, I now renounce. I simply don't feel the need or desire to interact anymore. My soul really does not benefit from their tenderness. They do not understand me, and I don't wish to pretend that they do. I'm much more content on my own than with a cheap excuse for friendship. It's not anyone's fault, for I know these people have pure intentions. I'm simply insufferable and have standards that most cannot live up to. I won't blame myself, yet I know it is from my own soul that the discrepancy stems. And, I don't think, I can love anymore.
My brother says I sleep too much. "You wake up, go to school, then come home and sleep." You know why I sleep so much? It's because I'm so damn tired. All the time.
I'm tired of my life seeming so empty and meaningless. I'm tired of being bored all the time. I'm tired of feeling like my actions hold no significance whatsoever. I'm tired of not feeling real, of not feeling human. I'm so tired of watching others around me go by and just be okay. Why can't I be like that? Why do I have to be different? I envision the life I want and it all seems like fantasy. I'm so used to this. So used to being frustrated. Alone. Misunderstood. Left out. Isolated. I'm not blaming others. No, most of the time I choose not to be in the company of others because I can't get what I need from available social interaction. I can talk to people, be around them, but why when it all feels so empty, so superficial? That doesn't help me. It can bandage things for a while, keep my bleeding soul together just enough to function, as it does in school, but I am alone. My best friend can't speak. My best friend is a cat. How can things be different? How can I even dare to imagine a life in which I am happy, in which I have meaningful relationships with PEOPLE, in which I can be as free as the air and as light as a feather? I hardly expect good things to happen anymore. Some part of me knows I'm going to college next year. Some part of me really believes it'll be the one I really want to go to as well. But I dare not let that make me happy, because right now it doesn't change anything. I want to tear my hair out and scream, I am so frustrated. When my depression doesn't completely debilitate me, I throw myself into my schoolwork like lives depend on it. And maybe they do. It's all I have, all that I really have, as mine, to connect to, to fool me into thinking I'm doing something worthwhile. Something that will better me and therefore better the world. I wouldn't be surprised if it's all a gimmick though. It's hard to get me to believe or trust anything or anyone anymore.
Love? What the hell is that? I can't see myself being in love. Love is for people. I'm not a person. I'm just me, and I don't know what that means. I love ideas, not people. I think this is because I am an idea as well. I'm not a cat, but I love mine. He keeps me connected to life, and reminds me that I am living, and existing in a world in which others are also alive. Words, words, words. That's what people throw at me. I don't know if it's because they think they'll heal me, or if it's instinctual, or if they just don't know what else to do. I love words, but they are abused. Misused. I comb through everything I hear and see and I can detect emptiness. Even when it's not implied, so many words are empty to me, because they just don't hit me. They don't affect me. They don't help me. You try to help me, but you don't. And I feel myself at fault, because I know I have people that care about me. It doesn't matter. I am still alone. You can't tell me I'm not because you don't know. You are not me. Where are you, others, of my kind? Am I to believe I really am as alone as I feel? Do others accept existing without being? Are they aware of not being? Or does their unawareness of not being allow them to be? I want to see where this will take me. I want to see something good come out of this head and life which goes through so much pain and conflict. I want to believe there's a silver lining to these grey, grey clouds. How can I, of all people, be so different? I'm not that special. I'm just me. We're told contradicting things, growing up. You're special. No, you're just like everyone else. No you really are special and unique. What am I? Where am I? Why do I have to feel like this? Can I just have an answer, and be left alone, with my work and my cat? I'd be content if it weren't for these impressions of doubt and void. I don't need much. I don't ask for much. I just want to be okay. I don't want to just function, exist, 70% of the time, in whatever small way one defines functioning. I want to through and through, every cell, be okay. OK. Okay.
Today was an interesting day. But that's only because it's the present. It won't mean much with some time. I think I take some solace in the temporary nature of, well, everything. That means that there's perpetual movement and no matter how bad things get, they won't stay that way. Sure it's hell during the moment. But it won't last. I have these, phases. They last anywhere from seconds to hours to weeks at a time. I hate everything when I'm in this state. Seconds last hours, I can't focus in school, and I become aversive to social interaction. I wish nothing more than to die. But I can't! I can't die! Well, I can, but I can't make that decision. And you know what that does? Knowing I can't give up makes it so much harder. It's frustrating. It means I have to deal with the situation, with that feeling of being lower than low. I can't do a damn thing about it other than to ride it out. I do. I do ride it out. I get better, on a whim, temporarily. I hold onto the times when I'm happy, and I exaggerate it and milk that happiness for way more than it's worth, because going back is a horrible experience. It's so very painful, and all I can do is pray that these episodes will lessen in frequency and/or severity (at this point I'd take even one of those.) I'm not sure what causes my depressed moods. I mean, I guess I could point out a few things, but I think it's a combination of many, and I wish I knew just what pushes me over the edge so I could work on eliminating one stressor at a time. I live with so much doubt. I doubt myself, I doubt others. I doubt just about everything. I don't feel there's much stability in the universe, much less my life. I don't have much of an anchor or a rock to hold onto when the earthquakes come. Living isn't fun. It's hard. I just hope it's worth something along the way or in the end.
There's a void that's been within me for so long, that it is an actual thing that I would not recognize myself without. It defines me much more than anything else, but I don't think it's apparent to others.
I don't feel like a person. I see people around me, and I admire them, with varying degrees of respect. People fascinate me, but I think I like ideas more than people. Ideas don't really change. Ideas and facts are consistent and stable. I understand ideas and can connect to them. This is why I love science, psychology, and philosophy so much; because through them, people can be broken down into ideas, into aspects that I can relate to, understand, and love.
I think I love people too.. but I'm not amongst them. I'm something else. I watch those around me go about their lives, thinking and feeling things, being with friends and romantic partners, and that's ok. That's normal. But I feel so far away from even those I consider my closest friends. Love, doesn't seem to be for me. I thought I knew her once, but she's left, and right now I can't see myself becoming reacquainted. I went to a friend's funeral last night. I don't think I felt like the others there did. They were crying. I didn't, and haven't, cried. Instead I thought. I thought of what life means, the value of it, what value is in itself. Value seems very arbitrary, represented by symbols, things standing in place for something else, something we can't touch or see. If it can't be sensed, how can it be perceived? What I'm about to type may be seen as offensive, but I mean no harm. I just want to be able to share what I think. I did not like Ryan's funeral. No one did, right? That's not how I mean it. I did not like it because it did not accomplish for me what I thought a funeral should. I wanted to be able to feel connected. I wanted to be able to feel great sorrow. I wanted to cry. I wanted the focus to be on his life. Instead, I felt more connected to the wood in the pews and the fibers in my jacket than to Ryan or the others there. I became upset when it was clear that the service was more about religion than about our departed friend.
I think a big thing about religion, and please excuse me here, is that it's used as an aversive tool. It's used to fabricate hope and happiness, to avoid asking questions, and to deny permanency and sorrow. It's ok that we lost a friend, because he is with God in heaven, and he'll be brought back in the Resurrection, and we'll see him again. What's wrong with saying something has ended, what's wrong with being deeply upset? I drove home alone in the dark with an odd feeling. I was hypersensitive to my aloneness, but I welcomed and accepted it. I thought, maybe I will be alone. But that's ok, because my life, human or not, has a purpose. Even if I'm not a person, I can positively affect others that are people. So throughout my depression and negative times, I cannot give up, because I'm here for a reason. Yes, I'd like to be able to control the circumstances of my death. I'm not saying I won't end up committing suicide myself one day. But I have things to do first. I'm going to try my damnedest at succeeding, at becoming educated and an educator, at becoming a good friend and a lover, at becoming happy. So until I live out my potential, I'll try to take care of myself, even alone. For now, I'm just Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.
I don't consider myself a bad person. There are things about me that others don't like, sure. I may make some choices others disapprove of. I may make some choices that even I disapprove of. Other things aren't exactly choices, but may elicit some dislike nonetheless. That's fine. Everyone's entitled to their own opinion; I'll admit there are plenty of things about other people I don't like myself. What bothers me is when it's said or implied that God disapproves of us. I'm not exactly religious. I don't go to church, read religious scriptures (aside from research purposes,) or believe in an orthodox sense. But I do believe in some sort of divine higher power. God, whatever form "it" takes, does not hate me for being gay. God doesn't hate certain races. God doesn't hate people of various intelligences. God doesn't hate you if you smoke or drink. God doesn't hate. People hate. God is a life force that connects everything in existence. God provides us everything we have. It allows us to do everything we can, whether it be "good" or "bad." God doesn't judge. God just IS, and IS everywhere. Perhaps one day this spiritual phenomenon, which many call "God" or whatever other names it has been given, will be explainable by science, but that won't make it any less important or powerful. Is a beating heart any less beautiful now that we know what causes muscles to contract? No. Whatever we believe, this thing, that I only call "God" for lack of a better word or description, is universal. It's basic to life, to existence, to the bonds between and within atoms. In a world of differences, this is one of the few things that makes us all the same. Judgment, war, discrimination, etc., are all human-borne. We shouldn't use God or religion as an excuse to uphold our negativity toward others. We should take responsibility for our own feelings and be able to recognize that they are our own, whether they are wrong or right. Then, once we recognize what we create within us, we can reach toward spirituality --also within us-- to help us connect with others and change our ways (should we want to)!
Oh mystery girl It's been so long since I've seen you I doubt you remember me Or else you would've returned I remember you though Your name? I think it was Emily Or maybe it was something else All I remember was your long, golden hair Your bright blue eyes that I had to fight for Your fair face; Angelic The texture of your lips against mine Soft, yet passionate But above all We were in love In a pure way, in a true way And we were so happy in each other's arms Oh Emily Girl from my dream I know you're still there Where have you hidden?
I like to see the world as a little artistic. I value ideas over things; things have value because of what they mean, anyway. There's a lot of beauty to be perceived if we only let it in. I don't want to live in the real world. I don't want to live with politics and restrictive government. I want to be happy with my type of happy knowledge. I like some things, but other very similar things, I don't like so much. Let's look at school subjects. I love English, as much as I complain about it, as much as it's a pain in the ass. Would I major in it? No, but it's important to experience and learn about. I love science. There's so much to learn that it's frustrating. It's so real and fascinating. I like knowing how the world works, how life happens, what makes us, us. I don't care so much for history or government. Ok, I recognize it's importance. But it seems so faulty and corrupted and unchangeable to me. I don't want to memorize these names in my notes. It doesn't matter to me really. As long as I'm safe, as long as I can obtain an education, as long as I can live a simple kind of life, I don't need much more. Take my money as long as I can eat and get around to the things I need, I don't care. All I need is what I love, and who I love. I need some freedom. I need to be allowed to think, to screech out little pieces of art from my own soul. I don't want to be alone or unguided, I just want some liberty is all. You can argue, that's what history is all about. That's fine. I'm not saying destroy history. I'm just saying leave it to someone else. I don't need it; it's not how I'm going to affect the world. I'm so bored. I want to affect the world. Why is so little expected of us? I hate this, it makes me want to be lazy. Why not? I could very well get away with it, I mean so many others do. I am so not in my element. But I will be..soon.
It's sort of like a constantly filling glass, with a crack just big enough in it to keep it from overflowing the top. There isn't a whole lot of stability right now. It's sort of been free reign. It's weird. What I've had to do is force myself into places where I can pretend my presence means something, even though it really probably doesn't. Just about the most reassuring thing I have is my cat, constantly snuggled up against me. He won't let me be alone. I'm just filling up my time with whatever I can. Like putting random stickers on a page just so it isn't empty. The stickers don't mean a whole lot but they become what I know, they become a space filler and for that I'm grateful. As much as I appreciate them, I'll be surprised if anything substantial comes out of any of this. But who's to put a box around "substantial"? Current worth is substance enough even if it's not very deep or lasting. I was gonna say life-changing, but it sort of is, because without what I have, my friends and those little things I can do here and there, my life would be very different. So they are life-changing, even if I've felt deeper connections. I won't turn away help.
It doesn't really matter what I put here, because I don't think anyone reads it. The slight risk that someone might makes it more interesting and daring for me. I'm not writing for attention; there are more effective ways of getting that. I'm writing because I want a place to put my thoughts. So it doesn't matter how insignificant the cool breeze from outside is, or the ever-so-slight burning at the back of my throat. This is for me. If you want to get something out of it, go ahead, but I won't expect much. I can't expect much. I have to do things for myself. Maybe not completely alone, but part of taking care of yourself is knowing when to go to others. So I do that when I can, but a lot of times I can't. No one really wants to read my soul or listen to my story. I'm just a person amongst many.
Who cares? Well I do, so I guess I'll do things for myself. I'll mess up, but Max will forgive me. He doesn't know hate or anger, really. I'm not sure what those negative feelings he has for Mojo are, but they aren't hate or anger. They're something else. He's innocent. He's better than human. I don't know how I feel about humans anymore. I like the beautiful parts, and I guess I'm a human too, but it's just something that is a fact. I don't feel as strongly right now as I have before about humanity. What's the point? It doesn't do anyone much good to think about the whole of it, the underlying, when all we see is an obscure sample throughout our lives. So I'll only care about myself and the few that are directly around me.
Indifference. I've been waiting for this. I've been hurt pretty fuckin' bad. But now I just don't care. Sure there are things I'd like. But it doesn't matter. I'll just do what I want and not wait for anything from anyone else. If I can't control it, it doesn't matter. It just is and whether it's supposed to be that way or not isn't my concern if I can't affect it. Music isn't the same. Food isn't the same. Nothing's the same. Oh well. We evolve, or whatever.
I'm afraid no one else will find me attractive. I'm afraid I won't make it to my destination. I'm afraid I'll spend so much time waiting for happiness, I won't be able to recognize it once it's there. I'm afraid my intermittent hopes will not come true. I'm afraid I won't enjoy my job. I'm afraid I'll break down now and/or then. I'm afraid I'll have to settle. I'm afraid crying won't make me feel better. I'm afraid I'll be alone. I'm afraid I won't enjoy love again. I'm afraid of losing the things I still have. I'm afraid of screwing up big time. I'm afraid of the way I feel right now. I'm afraid that feeling will never go away. I'm afraid that this feeling will keep me from friends, happiness, and love. I'm afraid I'll shut out everything and everyone. I'm afraid I'll give up. I'm afraid I'll always be tired and bored. I'm afraid I won't be good enough. I'm afraid I'm not good enough.
Children! Save your haste for another day You'll need it much more then. You wait and wait and wait and hurry To be all grown up like us But don't let our height and cars fool you! The pains you feel at night in your legs Expanding and growing toward maturity Are but specks compared to the sharpness Of the knives stuck into the hearts of children-no-more. They are twisted and angled Until all of the veins are wrap't round tight And we are trap't! Every beat we feel not excitement for tomorrow But pleading for the end in which the bleeding ceases.
Dear children! Don't hurry to learn For it comes with a price Your ignorance means innocence And innocence means happiness And with experience comes happiness no more!
I want to take a bullet through the body I want to feel blood bubble up my throat I'll be put in a box that is shoddy Relaxing as they watch my corpse bloat I want my death to be violent I want short-lived but excruciating pain I'll scream then go silent Feeling life quickly drain I want to be broken down into element I want to be made into something better I'll be one with the sediment Having no soul to fetter
There's too much inside. I've been valiantly trying to find a way to let it out, but it doesn't seem to be sufficient. My words are inadequate when I speak or write, too much meaning is lost in translation. Music is still new to me and sounds bad coming from my hands. I will practice, of course, I have to. Even if I'm not right now, I'll make myself proud one day. One day. I don't feel overly discouraged, I just feel tired. There's been a lot to take in lately, and it's not like I usually occupy an empty house to begin with. I don't even feel like writing anymore.
Teeter-totter I think we all need a spotter It's all a game, but it never ends It feels like breaking but it just bends Up and down we go Tomorrow, how can we know? Each point is real, don't be in such a hurry Do you want speed or acceleration, a fright that's clear or blurry? One fact still prevails Gotta hold on by teeth and nails Just don't leave me hanging, bro Or else the journey will be awfully slow
I'm in this painful place some call grief, but I'd say it's more of a withdrawal. I know you're bad for me, but the highs are so euphoric. Then I crash, and all I want is more of you. What I need now is some rehab, because relapse would be so awful. I've relapsed time and time again..but this time, I think it will be different. I'll actually be able to move on and grow, fully, without slipping back. And all of these feelings I have right now, pain, anger, the desire to drive a drill through my skull...will disappear. Slowly, but surely, time will heal me, and it'll all be gone; like those notes that I burned, the smashed CD that I watched smolder as the tears ran from my eyes. I relinquished the things you gave me, and with them what you meant to me. I need that love back, that intensity, that passion. I need it back to put into things that are actually worthy of the way I can feel. I know I'll be happy again. And I won't have to worry like I did. I'll experience the best days of my life. I'm starting to accept that they'll be without you. I loved you so much. But I guess my timing was off. I was hosing down a fire that couldn't be brought down, no matter how much I put into it. I wish you luck. I have a lot more than most people, yet it still wasn't enough. I think, and hope, you just need to grow some more. My life isn't over. It hardly is. There was a time, in fact many, when I truly believed you'd be part of it for much, much longer. I have to accept that's not how it's supposed to be. I know it's better this way. I know we aren't meant for each other. I know I can, and will, be happier without you. Why do I still hurt though? Why do I miss you? Once upon a time we were best friends. We had this unbelievable connection, and I have to keep reminding myself that I am actually capable of having that, and more, with another person. I have to be, or else I'll die. We had some good times...but I'm not sure if I want those memories. I guess I don't have much of a choice; I'll make of them the best lessons and wisdom I can. They're a part of me, and I'll be damned if I let them be an eternal negativity. You wonder why we can't be friends. One day I hope we can be. Maybe. But now, no. Now would be bad, because all it would do is give me hope of something more than just friendship. Or it would just depress me because I'd still want that something more but be denied it. No, I need time to get over you, to find happiness and a fulfilling life without you. I don't know how long it will take, but it won't be quick. I'll be vulnerable for a long time. Probably, in all honesty, we will never be friends again. I knew it would come to this. I knew a long time ago I would have to get over you. I'm a bit upset it took this long. Here I am though, and there's no turning back. Wow. How far have we fallen. What I want, what I miss, is dead. It's gone. And it's time to stop pretending it will ever be back. I'm sorry I caused you so much pain. All I ever wanted was for us to be together. And happy.
Every day, I learn something new. It's not always something academic, per se, or something that will advance me in what we've decided is "practical" in society. But every day has it's own rewards and challenges, no matter what form the day takes. How many times have we wondered why we are here, what's the purpose of living? Pain seems to last so much longer than happiness. Happy memories themselves can conjure grief and disappointment. Why? What do we gain from going from one hurt to the next, continuing only in hopes for that rare glimmer of contentment? Zoologists and biologists study animals, and with almost each characteristic they find in a species, it serves an evolutionary purpose. How does continual negativity help us survive, grow, reproduce, and improve as humans? Perhaps these tendencies towards darkness are vestigial, like wisdom teeth and appendixes. Unfortunately, we can't cut away parts of our psyches and hearts like we can extra organs. There have been attempts in the past (remember Walter Freeman, the American lobotomist?) which resulted in horrendous consequences. No, I believe we are supposed to live with the whole range of emotions and feelings possible, even though their functions aren't always clear. In today's world of psycho-active medication, psychiatry, and technology; it's hard to discern a healthy mind. I battle with the concept of mental illness; part of me believes all of us have psychological anomalies which can be coined as sicknesses, but another thinks these differences and inconsistencies are all part of the normal neurological and psychological spectrum (except for the obvious, extreme cases.) In comparison, we wouldn't say a person with blonde hair and blue eyes is diseased because they don't have the darker features of the masses (but we might make that distinction if we believed in a Hitler-esque master race.) This ambivalence, along with the constant feel of psychological effects, is among the many factors that drive me toward the field of psychiatry. It is the coalescence of the medical, chemical, and abstract properties of the mind. Seeing as my mind dictates just about everything for me, from what and when I want to eat to intense emotional outbursts, it makes sense for me to desire to understand it and how it works the way it does. Such understanding, coupled with the experiences of living, should bring greater stability to my life and emotions, as well as teach me how deal with any situation concerning myself or other people. I digress, but my endeavor is to create something out of the pain I feel from life's realities. A longstanding lesson, motivation, and/or a more open mind are all the pleasant rewards of a broken heart or a beaten-down mind. I can survive hurt because each day it lessens just a bit, and in hurt I find what I need to achieve happiness.
I guess I could sing for you We both know the problem's not with my voice I wish I could play the guitar I'd make you melt with the sad, mellow tunes of my heart And my words would carry a farther distance But it's not my hands that can't follow a tune Maybe I could learn the piano And tickle your soul along with the ivories But my fingers aren't holding me back The seat of the throne has her own ideas Passions and dreams and desires An exuberant energy, wild, yet, undirected Fiery yet inarticulate Wide-eyed but wandering
Love's not a jigsaw puzzle You can't start with the edges and slowly fill in the rest You don't get all the pieces with your box In search of the rest, you risk losing the ones you have And you'll drop them from time to time And you'll panic, searching the floor, under the tables, behind the couch You'll grow discouraged But just when you think you can't take it anymore You'll have to trust that honest face in front of you Open her hand What she has for you Might just complete you
Can I travel on a thought? Can I be carried away, out of the chains that bind the mind's inhabitants? I'd be so far away from here, from now I'd sit with Einstein and Freud and Cushing and Sinatra and Shakespeare and Homer and Washington I'd talk with them, they'd teach me lessons, and they'd learn some too. I'd go to the stars, to the center of an atom I'd watch the sunset from your beating heart Maybe dream in the arms of a lover Then wake up to those dreams in my eyes Where is the value of a glorious collection of thoughts? Can a thought build a house? Can it feed a mouth? Can it bring love to the lonely? I feel a border placed around my soul One that I can't pass, jump, sneak through, get around It separates my internal being Which is all I really am From what have been deemed the necessities of the world we all live in Money Status A very specific education Criss-cross paths that have been drawn by a lucky few Now we all have to follow them What about the areas in between? I want to see them for myself You can tell me all you want about them, but I am a visual learner A tactile learner I won't be satisfied with just the rails on a track Why is that all that matters? How can a penny be worth more than a human spirit? I guess it's just a thought.
As it happens often, 8th hour rolled around, and the world around me fell to pieces, caved into my head. I have no problem with the class of physical education as they call it; in fact, it's often quite nice, to be able to run around and do this and that without having to put much mental focus into it. I am not an athlete, and have never been, save for my rather successful years in martial arts which like an old relationship, I seem to miss the good parts of and forget why I left in the first place. A game called knock-out usually leaves me standing away from the long line for a while, because when I throw the ball toward the hoop, my lack of skill -- and more so, sentiment -- keeps it far from it's intended path, allowing the person behind me ample time to make the shot. No worries, think I, for my mind has many places to wander, and the act of standing idle in P.E. class brings a sense of satisfaction in defeating the entire purpose of it. While I would rather be running around, feeling my pulse quicken and my features redden, I take pleasure in the irony that often it is those who need it most that get the least motion by the set-up of such games and classes. So I stand aside, fixating my eyes on that netted goal, not out of interest but of thinking there is not a more appropriate place for them to lie. Unsure of what to do with my hands, I will hold them, finger my bracelets, put them behind my back or on my hips, each action feeling a bit forced and unnatural, yet better than feeling them weigh down, immobilized, by my sides. My face is wholly expressionless, if not a bit stern with bent eyebrows. Behind the eyes locked onto the hanging net, a mind works in places besides its physical location. Many times, no words run through, no sentences or ideas that are in any sense tangible or able to be properly expressed or written, because I am clearing my head of all unnecessary monologue in order to feel the emotions of my heart and read life's philosophy from my soul. I am thinking, very hard, just not with my head. And though I might so desire it, it's often impossible to share this with other inquiring souls, blessed be their hearts, rare amongst the weeds of society. I worry because sometimes I try this but I feel completely empty, in heart and mind, as well as spirit, as if my essence has temporarily taken hiatus. Today, however, my brain's sulci presented me with intelligible words and thoughts. While far from a new revelation, a certain idea pervaded the emptiness of my head. This being, that we should seek to be content with discontent. It will never be a good thing to be entirely happy, for that is the opposite of from which bears change, motivation, focus, and action. We work for a desired effect, because we currently are lacking it. We aim and dream for that which we do not have. If we feel whole, and satisfied with all of life's aspects, then we do not want change, and thus we do not want growth or progression. Why work towards something when where we are is perfect? Why should a student work harder when they are pleased with a B? In the right scope, in the proper dosage, unhappiness is our greatest asset, spurring all new discoveries and achievements. I am bothered by not knowing the answer to this, so I will work to seek it, thus finding happiness. So we must strive for what we can never reach -- perfection -- but accept that we will never obtain it. One cannot be a winner all the time, and must realize that for the most part, he is a loser, in order to win at all. Humans spend too much time dwelling on negativity and its affiliations, treating it as an undesirable disease. We have so driven this boon into ignominy that this natural and necessary state is medicated against; fought just as valiantly as wars are. Here is to embracing our healthy stress and that which causes it, to happiness with our secretly fertile unhappiness. When we accept the ebb and flow of life, it's much harder for any emotion to spiral out of control, taking over the minds and hearts which try to resist it so fruitlessly. And while I certainly will not follow what I've spoken, I will try my damnedest to be content with discontent - just not too content.
