It’s one of those days where all that I want to do is stare into space. It’s not daydreaming, exactly, because my mind doesn’t seem to go anywhere in particular, and it’s not boredom because I find myself perfectly happy to do and think about nothing. But it does make it difficult to write when the most profound thought that your brain can muster up is: “do we ever really know what the inside of our mouth tastes like?” 

Not exactly post worthy. 

It feels kinda nice, though: relaxing. Nicer than having a million thoughts reaching through my head all the time and a constant sense of a looming deadline anyway. 

I have to wonder how I got to be this way: when I think back on myself as a kid, it’s like I systematically went through my and tried to change it for adulthood. I don’t recall being an anxious kid or worrying about deadlines or knowing how to spell or liking to run (I hated having to run the mile for gym class). I wasn’t an especially astute student- I was a pleasure to have in class and I was good at art. I had trouble remembering which way letters faced and I couldn’t tell my right from my left. My room was never very clean and that never really bothered me- now I can’t think straight if the bed isn’t made. 

How did I become the person that I am? Did I choose to become this person or was it an inevitable evolution? Who will I be in another thirty years? Will I be someone else again or will I be my current self only moreso? Do I have a choice? Will I know what I’m becoming or will it happen so gradually that I won’t notice? 

So many questions. I guess that’s enough existential philosophy for one day. 

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~ by Gwydhar Gebien on October 6, 2016.

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