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12 Dec

To the extent that I had come to understand that despair does not necessarily result in annihilation, that one can go on as usual in spite of it, I had become hardened. Was that what it means to be an adult, to live with ugly ambiguities? I didn’t like it, but it made it easier to go on.

From Kitchen, by Banana Yoshimoto

A Year In Meditation

12 Dec

I’ve been trying to admit this for a very, very long time. Here it is: I can’t focus on anything.

I’m not sure if it’s an actual psychological issue, but whatever it is, I have come to a point in my life where I feel that my inability to concentrate on something for an extended period of time is a personal characteristic I no longer want. I live in the lazy world of emotional abstraction: a floating life in some sort of floating world, where emotions and actions alike are abstractions of fuzzy perceptions. It is only when the abstract fluff of my existence encounters sharp, solid forces that I am unkindly thrust back into reality.

I would like to live a kind life. There is strength in each, feeling and reasoning, but at the root of it all, my lack of focus comes from an imbalance of these two traits. To balance, I need to solidify. Gain mass of reasoning and conviction.