Farther Than Knowledge, Closer Than Reality

Not sure how it happened, but the persistent occurrence of the unwanted had led him into quick sand and the harder he struggled to get free, the deeper he sank. Frantically he fought, and in anguish he cried, but in vain were his efforts for there was no around. Now torso deep in the sand and exhausted from all the pointless effort he'd exerted, he could not but stop to catch his breath. At last, he realized that there was nothing else he could do, so he gave into listening to the only sounds there were to be heard, the gradually decreasing pace of his rhythmic breathing, and the pouring sand around him. Scared as he was of his fate, being buried alive, he could not help but worry about having not blinked for the past minute or so. All the same, with almost all hope lost he shut his eyes tight. Two breaths and a sigh later, throwing away the last shred of hope he had left, he opened his eyes, and to his astonishment, looked down to see his legs that were equally thrilled to see him. He wiggled his toes, stretched his feet, and with a confused look on his face, he took his first couple of steps. Just then, an eerie feeling cast its grim shadow upon him.

The Itch

The mental peace provided by the last entry I wrote has been rudely disturbed. Glad as I am to have had such a long period of recession, I fear my addiction to the drug has gotten worse, and I have hit devastating mental turmoil. I find myself powerless, yet again, to knowing the reason for this turbulence, yet fueled by the confidence in the efficiency of writing as an outlet of feeling and thought, and a soother of minds. So, with thoughts over flowing and no idea where to start, doesn't seem relevant but to start with one question, who am I? Simple as this question appears to be, it feels as though I have to go through a whole lot of "back" to relieve this itch. Here goes.

Daily life forces me, as it does everyone else, to mingle with lots of different people. In order to fit in with these different groups, we have to understand how we must behave and speak, and follow the acquired pattern of behavior. That, however, is not to be confused with hypocrisy. I believe a hypocrite behaves in certain ways in order to achieve personal gain. As long as I'm behaving the way I am to escape falling into an awkward fix, then I'm not being a phony. All said in the hopes of retrieving that mental relief which I enjoyed for about a month, however it still feels a long way from reaching that devil of an inch, let alone relieve it.

I have no doubt we have to, and we do, acquire different behavior patterns which we must use in different social groups and situations. I've also come to realize that we are inevitably, subconsciously emotional; some elements of these patterns of behavior appeal to us. That dooms us to picking these elements up, and introducing them to "ourselves". So, when I'm being "myself", am I really being "myself" or am I being a merge of all the elements of the social behavior patterns, that appeal to me? How do I know when I'm being myself?

There's always more to everyone than what we see. The problem I'm facing is seeing beyond what appears. What is also surprising is how I never learn anything about myself, unless pointed out to me.

It seems that many years of social education have left me itching to know who I really am; a little at ease to have identified the problem, I still find myself disappointed of not achieving the peace I was hoping for. I know now that what I've come to interpret as being myself is behaving through patterns I've acquired. The problem remains, how I know which behavioral elements are my own, if any are, and how to pick them all out and build "myself". I guess the itch has always been in my reach, but I over looked the fact that I don't know how to relieve this one in particular.