Am I on the path to self-realisation, or am I marching towards self-destruction? It is impossible to know. The mind rages with debate internally – enlightenment or naivety, confidence or arrogance, growth or distraction.
Living as one has for so long, in oblivious dishonesty, it is difficult to ascertain what is real and what is not. Having reflected on the letter I wrote to friends earlier this year, I recognise that it could be interpreted in a multitude of different ways, a lot of which are negative, but I don’t see what choice I had other than to be as honest as possible.
The more I read about Montaigne, the more in awe I become, and I am determined to read his Essais by the end of the year. I am also going to try to take inspiration from some of the main tenets of his writing – namely, his tendency to let his mind roam in his writing from one subject to another, often without any sense of logicality, and his determination, as stated by Sarah Bakewell in her excellent book How To Live: A Life Of Montaigne, “to sit on every possible side of the fence”.
It is a peculiar feeling to simultaneously feel freer and happier than you ever have, more confident and comfortable in your own skin than ever before, but also more isolated and alone, unsure of the validity of every relationship you have. Perhaps it shouldn’t be a surprise, as I have always felt quite alone, but this feeling is different – before, I was alone but always surrounded by people who, nominally at least, cared for me, but now, I am alone and surrounded by no one. But is it really any different if they only cared for a version of me that was constructed specifically to cultivate such feelings?
It is getting to the point where I’m becoming bored of considering such things, yet I cannot seem to help it. Nonetheless, there comes a point where you must resign yourself to fate, and I think I might be at that point. What will be will be.
On the other hand, is it not utterly self-absorbed to spend so much time writing things like this? Yes, it is, but you’re not obliged to read it, so I make no apologies. When I write, it makes me think logically about my feelings, and when I think logically about my feelings it helps me process them, and when I process them it makes me feel better, so if nothing else comes from this piece, or any other piece I ever write, at least it helps me feel a little bit more comfortable with my situation.
Thus, I am going to start a new section of my blog – As It Falls from My Pen – where I’ll be posting shit like this. Good luck.
