There is a point in all of my memorable interactions where I feel a shift from reasonable uncertainty into pure knowledge. Knowing like all of my nuclei have lined up to trumpet “Yes!” I would say it feels like waking, but there is no in-between time, there is only clicking from zero to one. It feels like the air I breathe has transmuted into water, it has a weight, a heaviness, as if time and dimension were things that are possible to reach out and grasp. As if I am suddenly in a place where I can twist intangibles because I am brimming with the assurance required to make it happen. As if that’s the only variable that exists.
I don’t know if I like it. I don’t know if I want to accept it.
I borrowed a Neal Stephenson novel off Angus today in return for a Hunter S. Thompson he plucked off my shelf last night. I’m wary of reading it. There’s been too much metaphysics in my head lately, tying maybe badly with the credit that people have been giving me for things I don’t see. I’m beginning to suspect that what I’ve been looking at as dancing with arrogance might just be stepping into my own confident waltz. I don’t like that I question my self-importance these days, but I have to see it for what it is and deal with it. I need to wonder how much of my perception has been mine and how much ground-in training. Somehow I have to discover how much is mine to claim.
I have issues with accepting such things that stem from other places as well. I loathe other people handing me their responsibilities. It shouldn’t be my place to make decisions for other people and I rail against it. It irritates me that fairness is a concept that cannot properly apply to emotion, no matter how much I would like it to. It is imbalance when I am given freedom by people who cannot hold me in check.
My complaints are becoming an older rant these days, in spite of the fact that they’re shared with fewer friends. There aren’t very many people I can talk to properly. The ones who understand are older than I am. They are used to having such concepts just as I might be on the verge of finding the proper words to lash out with. There is no hacking justice, it is a idea existing only inside our heads, no matter how much we wish otherwise. of pattern recognition. I recognize that as I rail against my own every day. There is no such thing as fair or justice outside of my own head. These concepts do not actually apply no matter how much I would like them to.
Uncertainty banished in the way I meet someone’s eyes, in the way I know exactly what they are thinking.