mindfuck

You know when sometimes you just feel that you really cannot take it anymore?

Sometimes you just want to wallow in your own self-pity and somehow ease the pain by shutting yourself out from the world for as long as it is socially and technologically possible that sometimes it is even nearly impossible at all.
You must be doing something wrong. You must be doing something right. You must be doing something that you should have done a long time ago that even if you try to do now, the opportunity has already passed and there’s nothing that you can do about it now. You must have not done something, something that would have made the real big difference, something either wrong or right, something that would have had a greater effect on you just merely doing the right thing.
You try to contemplate slowly, ever so slowly the situation at hand. You try to weigh out the options and think rationally for a moment, knowing that that would only be the rational way to approach it, and being a person who never runs out of reason in the first place, this would only be the way you’d know how to come to grips with it, if ever you’d actually come to that point eventually: in a very rational, throughly-deliberated way that totally makes sense.
The problem is, the more experience you get with this self-rationalization and self-explanatory moments of enlightenment, the harder it is to get out of the situation you were trying to avoid in the first place. You figure out all the possibilities and make sense of it all just so perfectly, you end up contradicting your own arguments, which by now would just have been deduced to explained moments of weaknesses, lapses of judgement, or just plain failure of imagination. You are now your own debate, not just your own debate team, but both the argument and the counter-argument itself, drilling holes in your own frame of thinking, or just eating your own argumentum ad hominems for yourself, those which are coming out of your own nose.
So you have two options: you only can have two, you only have two hands. One day social and psychological sciences would be able to prove that there are actually just two choices in a set of N, that it would all boil down to just picking one over the other or one over the others, that at any given point that we are presented a choice, no matter how many choices there are in the first place, one of the choices would always stand out on the onset above all else, and it always boil down to just two, ever. And besides, we have only two hands.
On one hand you see yourself just surrendering to the pressure, just willfully giving in, leaving it all to fate, letting yourself be consumed by the waves, devoured by your own failures and shortcomings. Let go, as they say, and you just do that, you let go and move on, in a stupid, self-effacing come-what-may attitude kind of way. This option makes you feel good. This makes everything you do thereon after extremely light and effortless, just like what you needed and wished, in an effort to be cool and calm. You really have no control when you choose this option, but by which control you did choose it in the first place, that you just won’t even care anymore. Choose this, and you loose all accountability for whatever comes after, everything else would be dictated by how the universe irons out the kinks in the fabric of reasoning, that which is actually referring to you by now, you kink, that by deciding to decide not to decide, or not buy into your privilege of free will, has just chosen the non-choice.
On the other hand, surrender just seems so out of your character. Just thinking of the people who believe in you, know that better side of you that doesn’t give up that easily, that guy who rises up to the challenge, not for the sake of winning and overcoming, but even just for the sake of challenge itself, that person who lies for the conflict, for the drama, for the struggle that is the everyday fact of even breathing. You tell yourself, I have full control of my destiny and therefore I choose to take control, as in now. This choice makes you feel special, as if doing the more logical thing to do for the rest of the normal-thinking, highly-motivated, and sane population would count as being special at all, to the rest of the world, you’re just joining the bandwagon. You’re making no bigger difference to the world than millions of other people in the world, who would have been in more dire situations than you and whose decision to stand up for that choice that they take in life would have actually changed the world. But it would matter you you, the one who makes that choice at that time, since that decision is your and yours alone, for once in your life, you have something that can really own.
So what did I choose? I don’t know. I don’t know. I am thinking of waiting it out.
Somewhere somehow I must not be thinking right.
Something just won’t fit. It might me just me.
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