July 21st

Truthfully, I don't know if I belong anywhere in this world.

Even in my recent freedom of looking beyond exile, all I find is something shallow.

Even in the moments of what should nourish me, providing soil for my roots to grow, everything feels indifferent.

I exist. I live. I breathe.

But for what?

I feel too lucid to find home in political and religious communities.

I feel too intense for the vast majority of relationships, both platonically and romantically.

People are very kind to me, I don't know why. It always seems that they respect me, even if they usually do not respect others.

I don't know why.

I may only describe this life I feel as something liminal. Not quite alive, not quite dead.

I could examine from logical propositions what constitutes being alive and dead, but how dreadful that would be at 12:00 AM. Just trust me.

Yes, I go about my life and do things I enjoy. I do work that I mostly am ok with (data engineering).

But I also understand that my self is an illusion. A composition of chance, distance, and illusion.

Why wouldn't enjoyable activities that serve an illusory master be hollow? I can't unsee it.

Lately I've been writing while listening to Catholic choir music.

I reason that my inner life would be more comforting if I was religious. But in fidelity to truth I can't allow myself to be of any religion. It is unknowable and beyond my finite being.

At least I would be like Simone Weil - religiously devoted to some god through rigorous mystical philosophy.

But all I have is myself and the void. Well acquainted friends, I would say.

I wish that I could dissolve my body into celestial dust and join the infinite. At least then there would be peace.

Hah, but I am here stuck with rent, bills, a cat whom I love. Even if I had the option, I would never abandon her. She deserves to be safe, warm, and loved.

There is virtue in understanding our scale in this universe and acting faithfully. Many thanks to Seneca who has guided me when all seemed lost.

The world does not feel real, but I also do not feel real. That is strange. Imagine a person dying and becoming a ghost, inhabiting his own world only to find out that the world itself is fake. I wonder how he would feel.

What a beautiful fractal.