Looking at a butterfly and trying to recognize it as a separate being… but it’s never really felt that way. I have to concentrate. Is anything really separate at all?
Today I watched Into the Wild and it really made me think. It’s an illusion, the idea of money and power and status. It’s all a lie that we are manufactured to believe in and I know this. Aside from all this obvious noise it makes me wonder what I, personally, am going to do. The best stories don’t come from carrying out the lives that have been planned for us. They come from a lust for new experience and indulging in our most basic human qualities and desires. And that is the kind of story I want to have. Special, and philosophically sound, and above all, human.
I feel like the opportunities that once existed allowing people to safely stray from normal life are vanishing. Do I want to succumb to the pattern? I feel most of the time like I don’t have a choice. I’m so driven by this backwards rebellion against my family’s indifference, but I can’t help but be disturbed by all of it. Everything has a price. That is what I thought when Alex dies alone in Alaska with next to holy knowledge but no one to share it with. It’s what I think about when I watch people squirm in their regret for not taking bigger risks, bolder paths… I’m going to choose my life too, but at what cost?