143 feel, fall, conclude

those who have this close sensitivity to the world stand apart from the cold, unthinking, shielded ways of others; it's the difference of a recluse and a social frequenter - those who feel in quiet times, let moments seep by, and those who cling to the external world's praises and shouts. a strength and a weakness, this sensitivity. much more a weakness in these times when I deal with the odd opacity of those around me, the strange sense that there's something more there, yet teasingly let in only to be declined.

when I see something in the distance, I like to believe that I can feel that object there, feel the armies of clouds floating as I fly high above, feel the armchair rocking as I depart it at the airport, feel my momentum swaying the world behind me in my footsteps.

this here is my greatest strength and my greatest weakness. I wonder who can appreciate that.

this chapter has concluded though. I have tried to turn the page, and I think new words are about to meet my eyes. the problem is that my fingers are restless and sometimes want to turn back and glance at those twirling words of what happened and develop theories around them - but that is when your strength becomes your weakness: you overthink. not everyone has that order of thought, and when they don't and you deal with them, you end up deceiving yourself. remember, just hypotheses - nothing else. be objective.

hypotheses are not dreams.

--

mutual improvement with another would be fantastic.

--

why can't you just free me of this stockholm syndrome?

treasure mine

every time I see paragraphs of text; cabooses of words connected to form trains and trains of meaning; musical notes spread out across pages and pages – every time I see such things, I see a treasure mine of wealth, information, exploration; a mysterious depth as deep as space itself.

sensing

How do I truly internalize this wonderful summer? I feel as though I am squeezing a sponge to force out the oceans and oceans of happiness that had occurred, but I just can't quite squeeze hard enough; as though there is always more cold refreshing water to unleash, to seep out and hug my hands, to cleanse, to imbibe, to smell evaporate through your nostrils... This feeling. The endless layers that keep appearing no matter how many times I peel the onion. The depth in each word that was spoken - I yearn for it to be felt; the ephemerality of each smile - I yearn for it to be collected into a wooden box, locked into my heart, with the key tossed off a cliff. There is a force around me, a feeling from the mountains I see beyond the plane wing and clouds, the soft glow of light smeared by a paintbrush of God, stroking the horizon, painting a perfection that everyone else doesn't seem to yearn for; a touch of it, a smidge, is all my throat thirsts for, all my body aches for. I feel a mysterious force hovering about each object, each motion, each spin of a wheel along the cold concrete, each breath from the winds around the clouds I the distance. It tickles the edges of my senses, eliciting the tail end of a thread of my mind. I feel like I could swallow all oceans and still not fully quench this sensation at the edge of my senses.

the game

the investment game is like reaching into a murky pool of water to dig for riches. many people aren't willing to go deep enough after dressing up in such a nice tux for so many years. they cringe when their sleeves are drenched in a soggy cold mud; they wince when the water coldly kisses their knees and reaches up their thighs; they can't handle this seduction.

but there are others, the clever ones, who use fishing rods to let the bait draw in the gold. these patient others let rain clouds drift away while they strum their guitar to songbirds under the sun. it's a witty trick, a ritual. triumph and disaster are just different costumes worn by the same creature to them. and the beauty is that they can play along their lives with no stress as life goes on.

all it requires is picking the right pond.

sacrifice

Definitions:
Source One - sources of intrinsic happiness
Source Two - sources of extrinsic happiness

it is now apparent to me that Source 1 and Source 2 are in such strong conflict that this balancing act is possibly the biggest challenge of my life. every party, every social invitation yields nothing but revisitation when I return to my silent abode - my safe haven of One. and perhaps better so, because between the two sources of happiness, it is One that drives me to work harder, learn more, ponder deeply and seek benefits for the larger world. it is One that ignites the fire and keeps it burning into a roaring flame capable of devouring forests... but instead, One directs the flame to carve wood together to build fortresses, kingdoms, castles.

complacency is not an option.

to cast aside all others would be a paradise enclosed in steel walls no one will ever break through unless I make a breakthrough.

do I really have to choose between the two? is Two such an alcoholic beverage, a shot glass that shoots me in the foot, preventing me from walking the restless way I always do, preventing me from sprinting at my heart's content? do I want to have a permanent crutch by my side - fall into potential complacency blinded by this deep love we all search for, a love we ironically call "the one"?

is balance possible? can we find even ground between the two - but odd plus even is always odd; nothing can deny 1+2=3. as long as my strength lies in One, I will remain my true self, even if slowed down by Two; even if slowed down by finding that one true love we call "the one".