I’ve had some bouts with existential angst inside me these past few days that I had to stop writing if only to settle what has been a difficult fight; I had to wage against my defeatist self. These fights which I often lose are bloody ones. I do not want to utilize cryptic language here again to make ambiguous what I really feel, for at the end of the day, I am only clouding my thoughts even more than it has been. Ambiguity is a double-edged sword. The author, along the way might lose himself in the labyrinth he created. Such is the paradox of cryptic language.
Everything seems to be losing its old fun, it is like the old jokes Smart sends to its millions of subscribers daily. Jokes that have gone stale a long time ago but which, it seems, its marketing team doesn’t know so they keep on sending as spam SMSs and the equally boring line: Oh sumakit ba ang tiyan mo sa katatawa, marami pa niyan…(did you burst out laughing, we still got more. Send…) If the jokes I’ll get in exchange of my 2.50 pesos are as boring and predictable as those they send us, I’d rather cry.
Before, our idea of the world is as far as the physical expanse we see. We may imagine what is beyond the mountain or the horizon but the world is only as far as our imagination can take us. Our world this time, however, is overwhelming. The web is providing us with so much information that make us feel smaller than we used to feel, hopeless, even negligible. Such is the sad story of our existence.
I may not embrace the comfort of my faith, nor the coldness of my reality, but at least, no matter how wretched it is, I have my existence. When we look for a reason, for a purpose, we humans look to the world for inspiration. But we find nothing but a world obsessed with the superlative, with the extreme. Inspiration does not thrive in the tiring task of running after something that is beyond our mind’s ability to create an image, so we either look for something we are capable of imagining or we imagine the unimaginable and transcend our humanity.
The latter left me weary, the former made me feel I am betraying my self.
Some of the most important choices we make happen during the time we are the most incapable of choosing. I dread making choices and eventually finding out they’re a mistake. A teacher in my fundamentals of chemistry subject when I was still in my undergrad told us that we always have a choice, but what if I choose not to choose, is it a legitimate choice?
I’m world weary.