After a while out here, I’ve come to realise that the only ways to make me ‘happy’ is art and people. By ‘happy’ I mean a state where I don’t feel like ending my life and where I look forward to the next moment or the next day and I don’t think about my existence at all. It’s where I’m totally absorbed in the moment. And I’m ‘alive’ (literal meaning: not dead) at that moment. Therefore, it means I’m totally absorbed in living.
I think a huge part of the problem comes from my almost always-pervasive act of thinking about something else other than the situation I am presently in. I’m never living in the moment itself. Except when it’s with art and people. I am not totally absorbed in the moment— where I am alive and living. Therefore, I am not totally absorbed in living. It means I am partially absorbed in death. I am dying.
By art, I only mean the time when I’m making art (or what I think is ‘art’). And not when it’s at the feedback stage or browsing-other-people’s-art stage. By people, I mean close, close friends (including my mother) and there are so few of them. I also only mean the time when I’m physically with them. And not via any other media— they oxidise really fast in my head.
However, how much time can you dedicate to ‘making art’? I bit the bullet that carries with it all the consequences and I crashed with my choice. Societally, it is not very possible. And I wasn’t too happy either— because the experience was tainted with my looking for feedback and reciprocating feedback by browsing through stuff by other people religiously. In fact, on balance— it was the most mentally unbalanced period of my life.
With people, it’s so unpredictable. To be very frank, I am very, very, very needy. But at the same time, I am aware that fully expressing this ‘trait’ of mine is very bad (for obvious reasons). So I suppress it. I cut down the need for people by rationalising it to myself. But while the rationalising got it all to make sense, it didn’t do anything to the need itself. And furthermore, I need the right people and they are rare. And I don’t think ideals like that exist. And I don’t even know what is the ‘ideal’. Everyone’s imperfect and everyone’s also imperfect with respect to my ideal. And so, even if I get to express the full extent of my neediness and have them 24/7, I’ll eventually go insane as well. Short to mid-length exposures are great. But bursts like those can’t last. They wane and lose their lustre. So I must go through bouts of ‘happiness’ and death-wishing moments. And many get put off by me. Because I’m just me. And then again, I know that’s not too true because I always think so ill of it all. It is also very unsustainable depending on people in such a manner. It can’t last.
And so, that is why I can’t be ‘happy’— in the manner in which I refer to what ‘happy’ meant at the start of this. My mind is always preoccupied and distant. The rare cases in which it will not be are so hard to come by/create and sustain,
I’m very sick and tired of going through all this. The peaks and steeps and high plateaus and low plateaus. I used to want one when I’m given another. But now that I’ve been through all of them, I don’t want any of them. I can’t assert that I’ve seen enough of life at all but from what I’ve seen, I seem to hate it all a lot. To this end, I can only really conclude that my ‘standards’ are perhaps set too high.
It all seems very strange. I came into this life with, strictly speaking, no strings attached. Everything’s imposed upon me after I’m born (though people can argue about this but I shall just write what I think right now which will not be free of loopholes for sure), pretty much societally. Say a child who’s born handicapped. The handicap only starts to realise itself after it manifests societally. I may be born into a family which wants me to take over their circus career or which wanted me for the prime reason of having another helping hand to grow crops but that was after I came into being, whichever time it was after I’m conceived or before I was even conceived.
Real life is painful— I really truly dislike my surroundings. But my mind is in a very weird state nowadays. I used to hate my family a lot, I shan’t go into it. I am alright with them now. But I think this happened because I ‘brainwashed’ myself. I applied an ‘even-ing’ tool to everything. Everything high and low got averaged out and I’m almost the same with everything. And this plateau, due to it having nothing to compare itself against, can be perceived to be high or low, whichever way I wanted. And this— gave rise to the irrational mood swings. The system got messed up. Unlocked. I can look at things whichever way ‘I’ wanted. Sounds like an amazing thing. But this freedom of perception or whatever is too huge a power. It is unreasonable and reason cannot bear it. So ‘I’ became the faculty that governs emotions and instinct. And I just became wiry.
In a way, this has got to do with ‘art’, it occurred to me now. I freely (or I think) create and edit my mental landscape, my attitude, my approach. That’s perhaps the only thing I can do when I’m stuck in such a small corner, barely any space to physically move my hands around. I’ve tried to make the most of what I could in that corner. I tried to use energy that radiates across and throughout the room. And it vanishes and gets used up. And why should I do that anyway? Is there any purpose for doing that?
I can instead just sit quietly at that corner. But the empty walls will stare at me and the contact is awkward and unbearable. Life seems to want movement. And trials and trials of error. Even if you don’t get the answer. Even if there were no answers in the first place. Empty whirling.
A simple way to approach this though: find a way to occupy my mind in the present situation. It does sound like Buddhism-related ways of thought may fare well in this endeavour. I have read up a little. But not with the ‘aim’ to dis-preoccupy myself. I will read up more.