Human Metamorphosis

It’s regarded common and usual for humans to enter or pass through a phase of mental and physical change. In my personal experience however, It seems as if I am going through a long, spiraled and endless path of change. Let’s think of it as human metamorphosis.

I’ll use this term as a metaphor for I have not merely experienced minor changes, but my whole life, reality and existence have been swaying like an turbulent ocean. I find myself in binary opposite mental states, constantly battling myself. My moral values, choices, religion, thought process, personality and life in general have been under harsh scrutiny; so much so that I find myself lost.

I considered contemplation one of the joys in life but as of late, whenever I find myself alone, I seldom contemplate. I prefer utter silence for my mental state hinges on insanity. I have been seduced by solitude. I find myself to enjoy silence’s company; not my own or any whom I consider close.

This turbulent mind of mine will never rest; I think too much. All that is left is to watch my core crumble beneath me as I too crumble into nothingness.

What do I do? What should I do? Will you help me? Why am I asking this question? To whom am I asking these questions?

At the end of it all, I find the majority of the answers to be: “I don’t know”. If you ask the same then the answer remains. No one knows. The only escape is the illusion of escape through the repression of these thoughts; thoughts pushed in a cell deep within my mind and live the illusion that is life.So let us carry on our insignificant lives in solitude and live and let live. Indulge ourselves in meaningless crap for it acts as a distraction to the pain of existence.

This change is mentally and physically weakening. I am static in a fast moving world. I am fast moving in a motionless world. It seems whichever state I am in, the world around me retains the opposite.

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I don’t know where I’m going with this blog because frankly I don’t know where I’m going in life. I fear this blog is beginning to appear as a poetic, aesthetically pleasing garbage as a cover up of a troubled humans diary. I’ll apologize for this but I am merely applying writing’s therapeutic function. I expect no audience but, being the hypocrite I am, form my words to appeal to any reader. My words are formed as an outcry to myself and also to anyone, whomever it may be.

Just a hormonal teenager. Don’t mind me.

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