Today, I was thinking that its better to sometimes, just let things be. Im not a fatalist, but i felt today, that if you search for the core, you may just end up in an empty space. A void. Hollow.
If today, for example, I begin thinking taht the reason im going to america for undergrad, is that i want to frankly be the best, learn, explore, grow, and ultimately end up with a 16k job, I'll think, what then?...After that job,, what then?..Assuming that I am amazingly successful, I zip around the world, I get married, sex, kids, men, a dog, a house, cars, books, and growing old. What then?...In the end, i die.
Sometimes when im writing, i cant help but think of Virginia Woolf. This woman was a phenomena in the times she lived in, still is, perhaps, but more of a literary concern, than anything else. What does it matter..she's gone. What does anything matter, after you die. If i peel every single layer off, I find there is nothing inside. In the end, everything's a void, everything's one. When you think like that, all concepts of individuality begin to evaporate, and that is why perhaps, im an existentialist. To save myself. My life.
Don't get me wrong. I do think that the whole point of life is to experience every single second in its entirety. Infact,I think that my only purpose in life to experience it in "real" moments. Nothing superficial. Sad, happy, excited, distraught, anything. But real, pure, unaffected emotion. No superficiality. No putting up a face. No lying to myself. Real.
But if i get right down to it, nothing matters. I know i can survive through most anything. And i sometimes hate myself for that. It seems to me that i can never really care enough for anything to really die with it. And i want that. I want that experience. To feel that deeply. But i dont. Im your basic-survivor sort. lol. Contrary to popular opinion, that's not pretty.