On a whim, I rediscovered the old thoughts of an old self.
Today, and many days previous, I've found myself wondering about the future.
I've been concerned recently that I've forgotten many things. I've found that
I've forgotten how to think, how to write, and how to be conscious of the
thoughts I have.
I think it might be time to re-open an old book. I don’t really care whom, if anyone, reads it, but i hope that it will reinstill the value of writing something down.
There is a strange power in the words we write. We write these things, these little symbols to convey a thought, that might be remembered, or perhaps that we thought might be worth remembering. It seems as though I've forgotten how. Perhaps it's that I prefer not to make a memory of the past few years or perhaps I actively wish that those years might be forgotten in time.
Tonight I had a conversation.
I've been told that I'm a rare person. It's arrogant to say so but I've found that people like me are a rare find. I now see than no one particularly cares about the people around them. I find that I care, more than most, about people I dislike more than others care about their friends. I think it’s a travesty that a person would not care about the wellbeing of a stranger, and yet this is not the view of most people.
A while ago, I witnessed an acquaintance of mine break into a grand mal seizure. This was a novel experience for me. I've never seen a seizure before that night. It amazed me that everyone else in the room left. They simply threw their hands in the air and said "not my friend; not my problem."
Everyone left. No one cared.
This bothered me on a level that messed me up for weeks. The conversation I had tonight revolved around how i was incapable of not caring about a stranger. It led to the realization that I'm one of a few that cannot grow complacent; who cannot walk away. I wish I could find a field, a place, where everyone, or at least a good portion of people, were like me. I consider my inability to be a strength, other would call be a sap, or a bleeding heart. I know that it is unlikely that I will meet my kind, but I wish I would meet one. I would die to know that I'm not a lone human in an uncaring world.
I think it might be time to re-open an old book. I don’t really care whom, if anyone, reads it, but i hope that it will reinstill the value of writing something down.
There is a strange power in the words we write. We write these things, these little symbols to convey a thought, that might be remembered, or perhaps that we thought might be worth remembering. It seems as though I've forgotten how. Perhaps it's that I prefer not to make a memory of the past few years or perhaps I actively wish that those years might be forgotten in time.
Tonight I had a conversation.
I've been told that I'm a rare person. It's arrogant to say so but I've found that people like me are a rare find. I now see than no one particularly cares about the people around them. I find that I care, more than most, about people I dislike more than others care about their friends. I think it’s a travesty that a person would not care about the wellbeing of a stranger, and yet this is not the view of most people.
A while ago, I witnessed an acquaintance of mine break into a grand mal seizure. This was a novel experience for me. I've never seen a seizure before that night. It amazed me that everyone else in the room left. They simply threw their hands in the air and said "not my friend; not my problem."
Everyone left. No one cared.
This bothered me on a level that messed me up for weeks. The conversation I had tonight revolved around how i was incapable of not caring about a stranger. It led to the realization that I'm one of a few that cannot grow complacent; who cannot walk away. I wish I could find a field, a place, where everyone, or at least a good portion of people, were like me. I consider my inability to be a strength, other would call be a sap, or a bleeding heart. I know that it is unlikely that I will meet my kind, but I wish I would meet one. I would die to know that I'm not a lone human in an uncaring world.
