We live such different lives, from one day to the next. In a moment I'm with an acquaintance casually and mutually passing the time. In another moment, same time, next day, I'm violating personal space to the 5th degree. And in the next, I'm pondering over such differences we see in the worlds we delve into each day to the next. And I leave the place like the chaos I exist in is simply original, classic, and granted. Am I living? Or am I simply existing. It's full of life. Yet with me, you may know, will forget everything. And I mean it. A word, a situation, a scent, may bring back the memories in an uninviting (sometimes pleasing) flood. But on my own, I have no power to conjure up memories of my life, to know who I am- the circumstances that have brought me together to the jumble I am today. What is this senseless meaningless that I have put upon myself?
So I live in this chaotic life, with no control over the day to day destinies. But I am confident of this, my fate is sealed, my place is secure. And until yesterday I was firm on this. Today I have not crossed the threshold into a bane worry, but I do see such beliefs as naked without others to pretext the claims.
So I will make contact with my core. And ask the granted. Ask the difficult. That is, if I remember to. I may just forget, and tomorrow, a year from now, or even a half a century from now, I may remember this need for meaning, and necessitate the life examination that I have called to order today.
Let's hope I get to it soon. A bane existence or living my life is at stake here.