“To Be, or not to be.  That is the question.  Whether tis’ nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to bear arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them.”

This famous quote is straight from Hamlet, and I’ve memorized the entire Soliloquy.  I’m starting to feel like Hamlet, what’s the point?  Of Graduation?  Of the friends?  Of the friends that will be there till the end?  Why not make it a quick end?  What else is there to experience?

That being said, I know there is plenty left in the world to experience, it’s just a lot of trouble, and taking the trouble for things that do not matter isn’t something that I wish to do.  I suppose that’s the rub though, what do we know actually matters?  Is it the big things, getting married, having kids, grandkids?  First car?  What if those things do not interest you?  Are you broken then?  If you are broken, is it wrong to fix it?  Why have standards?  Why strive to abide by standards?  Why not break free?  Who is there to watch you fall?  Who is there to watch you rise?  God?  Does he care?  Is there a God to care?

Brutal.  That is how life can feel at times.  As if the sheer weight of everything binds you down until you drown.  Then comes the other side of the coin.  Perhaps the weight is a good thing?  No pain to gain?  As if the burdens you bear will make you stronger than the rest.  Different perhaps?  Then do your troubles make you unique?  Is unique a desired trait?  Do you seek to be desired?  Does it matter who does?  Is it only the beautiful that you seek favors from?  Is beauty skin deep?  Is it possible to have both?  Is it wrong to want one more than the other?  Those who rebel for the sake of rebelling, are they honest in their rebellion?  If you say “I’m a rebel, so I must love something ugly, therefore I am different.”  Why be different?

Why Be?  Too many questions, and to seek the answer is the game.  What if you get tired of playing?  What if the grinding is too much?  Is there a limit?  Can the limit be raised?  Can it be Erased?  The skies the limit, and even that is negotiable.  Why then do we desire less and less for ourselves?  Do we feel guilty in our desires?  Do we succumb to guilt?  Is the guilt well-earned?  Self-inflicted?  If it is so, do we attempt to remove the guilt so that we may rise above the rest?

The arrogance of being above others, what if it is honest?  Will they fear us?  How can modesty belong with greatness?  Why do I seek to be modest?  For fear of removing the possibilities of others?  Then am I simply afraid of too many things?  Of stepping on too many toes?  Is that to keep a desirable rapport with those I seek to avoid stepping on?  What if I desire not?  Sacrifice for the sake of sacrifice.  Sacrifice desires?  Would a man with no urge to want be dead inside?  As if I am the suicidal that Hamlet represents?

If it is indeed for fear of removing possibilities, why do I stifle my own greatness?  Fear of arrogance then?  Would accepting arrogance be the right way to go?  As Nelson Mandela said, “It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us.”  No limits.  Scary thought.  What if I simply wanted the things that no one else did?  Not out of rebellion, but out of a difference in desires.  The Seven.  Too simple to be considered desirable?  Could this life be sustainable?

Why is it that I shy away from praise?  Perhaps I should swallow my pride and accept whatever glory is given to me?  This suffering is endless.  Then again it is familiar.  How I long to be normal.  How I long for a quiet life, without all this mindless strife.  Not that the life I lead can be considered a great misdeed.  It has its perks, and I hope that someday I can make it work.

These are the things that keep me awake at night.  These questions that give me quite a fright.  All these words I utter and mutter, who knows if any of it is even remotely right.  I am such a sad and sordid sight.  I hope one day I will eased from this great plight.  For now, I will simply say, Good Night.

What kind of guy am I?  I am the kind of guy, that is, ( if only just barely), a little broken inside.

“If I, If I, died inside, would anyone realize, that I lived a  lie.”


One thought on “Questions.

  1. pure poetry to my ears, yet a lot of these questions i ask myself as well. we first obtain this goal that keeps us Normal from the ones who raised us. then this goal reshapes itself through each piece of knowledge that we absorb. knowledge is powerful yet frightening at the same time. who knew that the human mind can create such complexities that binds the creator and thinker of it. i dont want to relate back to a book i read but this also sounds like 1984, the word doublethink. to think of both sides at the same time. perhaps contradictions is what makes us all humans and that thinking in a straight-lined path implies…what?

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