“much of what we do is already molded by what has been done to us”

on a larger scale, i could’ve been born at a different time, a different era; a dinosaur, maybe? we like to think whatever is happening in our lives are dictated by rationally determined choices we make, but on looking back, everyone realises that how small control you have over your choices and what you are going to do about things in your life, you like to think that the possibilities are limitless but most of them are made or chosen in the moment of contingency or some chance encounter, sometimes i wonder if our entire existence is a chain of collisions; brief, fluky, yet irreversible. all of us pretend there’s a grand order beneath it all, but maybe we’re just brushing against the walls of luck. two big stones crashing into each other and we become?

would it be okay to say that everything here is the result of some contingent choices? and if so, where does accountability breathe? in the spaces of what could’ve been and what was enforced upon us? it feels unfair to be held responsible for the ripples of a stone we never threw. yet somehow, we still wake every day carrying its weight, as if guilt is the proof of being alive. a few happenchance triggering a spree of narrowed choices to have everything as it specifically is?

utilization of one’s freedom is an illusion? who we are and what has been done to us has shaped our present circumstances is a lucrative idea to think about, to pick every little thing which hit us and point out which hit dented us in which way, but does it mean we are condemned to follow it all again? to keep flowing on our past trajectories, being born in a certain family has certain odds heightened and certain other lowered, nothing here is in your control but your life is does doing work offers you more freedom than doing nothing and calling yourself a free person? is a person not bound by anything, freer?

and do i need to create a new future every second? to choose something better for myself at every passing second and not look back? i get exhausted

why get up? why try? i roll the boulder up and it rolls back down and i ask myself; why continue? i feel like an idiot, a fool, crawling towards some salvation or certainty? i drift in the fog again and i am lost again, where am i? so i focus on my breaths, life getting in and out of my body expresses i am alive, and i am here, wherever here is. maybe this is why we create, to set our dot in the grand scheme, but does it matter? i dont think grand scheme applies on minute beings like us, its chaos, chaos everywhere, with everything, in everything, in every being. its terrifying and profound.

it feels better to just curl up at the bottom of the pit, at the abyss. not a dark valley but maybe something? flying octopuses, swimming cows, just nature, plants and flowers feel so blissful. dealing with people feels haunting and daunting, its draining the life out of me to hear breaths of them, their mumbles, their air. solitude doesn’t scare me anymore; it feels like undeceitful state of being. the noise fades, i can hear my own pulse, the soft hum of existence just existing. maybe this is what peace actually sounds like — not joy, not silence, just a steady heartbeat in a world that keeps collapsing and rebuilding itself.

anything ever built was ever finished? people talk about something they created, but its not finished, its never gonna be finished, there always something you can add, evolve, transform about it, i dont understand how do they decide its time for a fullstop? we were thrown in here without any prior apprehension, so it makes sense to throw something by creating something of our own, maybe that’s the purpose of our existence? maybe this offers a glimmer of path to understanding ourselves, to not go insane by pure reality.

telling yourself “it is what it is” but is it what it is? is this the end of everything which could’ve been, just because it is what it is? but sartre said “freedom is what you do with what’s been done to you” we might not have the freedom to choose our contingencies but we may have the freedom to react to it. maybe we choose our life? i choose hard work so i think i can avoid the anticipatory pain, thoughts of dying unworthy, being a being of wasted life, to get sapped to death. i think past is imaginative, i cant recall most of it, but most of my fears, pain, lessons come from it, so is all of it imaginative or it just a movie i watched and learned very little from it.

i dont expect too much from life now, i travel, drink coffee, pretend to write good, i dont think i know anything, that how less i know even about the things i talk about, i dont know how i decided to put a fullstop on learning and decided to talk about it, i am curious but i am terrified that people will realise a fraud that i am, maybe its all just a lie.

and if everything truly is molded by history, by chance, by the soft persistence of time, maybe the most radical thing i can do is notice it. to witness the shaping, to breathe as it happens, and to say: yes, i am here, even if i was thrown. as i walk through the meadow i know i will one day and in due time reach the end of space where this valley disappears into the darkness of a forest, i hope that by then i have appreciated the valley so intensely that i can only welcome a change of scenery.