I write to you now in a moment of desperation; the way a refugee begs for asylum from tyranny. I’m running like hell from myself in fear of what I might do. Escape is such an easy word to say that we forget it’s meaning. Escape. Escape. Escape. Why do we try to escape from some issues, but not others? What is worthy of escape?
I have led a privileged life. I am a straight, white man who has never truly been left wanting for anything, or faced any kind of institutional obstacle. What right do I have to feel cut off from the world? Why do I want to escape?
Maslow’s hierarchy of needs states that we can only address our psyche once our basic needs have been met. Therein lies the paradox of happiness.
We tell ourselves, “If I only had more money, I would have no worries and finally be happy.” We know this to be a lie, but we don’t allow ourselves to believe it’s a fallacy. When we have stable shelter and sustenance, we begin to introspect. This may not seem daunting to the unsuspecting reader, but if this finds itself in the clutches of someone who understands they will know the gravity of my situation, for I live in this mindset. I believe there is nothing more frightening than living in your own mind, but I cannot desist.
I may be conversing with you, but I am judging myself at every sentence, word and syllable. “Lovely weather we’re having.” What a stupid thing to say. They had to walk outside to get here. They know what the weather is like. “I got a new car today. It’s a convertible.” What a braggadocious thing to say. Do you think you’re better than them? No one cares what kind of car you drive. “Social media and increasing connectivity is making us more anxious and self-conscious.” What are you a philosopher now? You are pretentious. This is why no one wants to talk to you. “I’m he- he- headed home now.” Why can’t you just get a simple sentence out like a normal person?
Where is the exit?
Life is full of entropy and inherently meaningless. I know the solution is to live in the moment, but how can I when I’m not even sure I’m living? Every time I try I end up back at square one in a cyclical, meaningless existence. When will it end? Will I do it myself, or will I wait for the universe to decide it’s done having a go at me?
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