The questions of my life are too small.
I feel empty because there’s nothing important shaking my world. My chaos isn’t playful, it is numbing. It is the kind of chaos that exhausts the soul and distracts from the core of life.
It takes me time alone to get back to that space of pulsating truth within me.
It takes a lot of tiring my emotional self through roleplay and intense, intimate connection with strangers.
This is how the world starts to move for me. In shared intimacy. In shedding the layers of shame and learned helplessness, of boredom and the habits we forge in order to kill time.
It takes time to find my way back to my depth, where it looks dark and uninviting at first but when you accustom yourself to the darkness and the silence, you start seeing and hearing beauty. So much beauty.
If you peer long enough you might even catch glimpses of the whole universe, of eternity itself.
That’s why we take care of the day-to-day. That’s why we choose a minimalistic lifestyle. To remove the shit. To remove the obstacles that block the path to the chip of the universe’s core we carry within.
It is and it is not surrender. It is exploring our abyss.
We take care of the shit, and then we resign from the grind, from the superfluousness of society. We go where others are too scared to go. We ignore their supplications, the cries they shout trying to keep us grounded within their tiny tiny specks of reality. Don’t listen. Ignore them. Their path is not yours.
We need bigger questions, though, and bigger goals.
I need them.