“Been there, done that. Bought the T shirt”, is something I heard my parents say often when I was a child.
It was just something they said, until I grew a bit older and started to experience my own mundane, and futile moments.
It’s not even a bad attitude, it’s like a rain cloud on a sunny day that just pisses down on you.
My life is pretty good, I have not much to complain about, except for this brain of mine. Why must I be sideswiped by the thought of life being pointless? Why do I think too much? Why does it feel like I’m burned out at 29 years old?
Probably because I am, is the realistic answer. I suffer from depression, some say. I’m undergoing a spiritual transformation, others cry.
I’m not sure of any of that. The nut job with a sign says God will save me. The doctor with a fat paycheck says drugs will help me. What exactly is the difference? Choose a form of escapism and stick with it?
To me, it is no wonder alcohol is such a popular substance.
What is the difference between being well, and thinking you are well? Does it even matter? If you think you are a good person, you must be a good person, right?
I think about those who don’t think so much, and wonder why? Maybe they are “well” and I am just not. Possibly, they do not have time to think about life. Should I just busy myself with these mundane tasks so that I no longer have time to think? Perhaps they have “mental fortitude” like a body guard that can guard them from these intruding thoughts.
My mind is like a leaky faucet. Even when it’s off, it’s still running.
Sometimes I wonder if I think about my life too much, and should think about others more often. I often wonder, what it is like to be in the shoes of someone else? I wonder what my life would be like if I no longer could walk, or see, or hear, how I would live my life, and how it would change me.
I often wonder about these things, but nothing changes. I wake up again, perplexed by the equation of life that drags me down daily. What am I going to do about it?
A man once asked a monk how he gets through life. He asked, “How do you do it? How do you get up every day, put your clothes on, and go to work”? The monk replied, “I get up, put my clothes on, and go to work”. No trickery there, you see.
My dad once asked me, “What would you do if you won a million dollars”? The question seemed silly to me, I wouldn’t do anything. “I’d give it away, I said”. He didn’t reply. My answer was disappointing, or surprising, I don’t know. He never said much to me anyway – just left me wondering.
Here I am, still wondering. What did he actually think about that? What would he do if he won a million dollars? He’s no longer alive for me to ask.
So here I am, clearly thinking too much. So I decided to write it down. A piece of my mind, and many others.
Cheers to those who think too much, and thank you to those who do not.