Animal of Regret

 I've been having more trouble lately than usual, taking myself and my work seriously. To be honest, I don't really see the point sometimes. I don't see the point of trying so hard in order to die a meaningful death. I think people put too much emphasis on life, myself even. What a dangerous and problematic opinion, I'm sure any therapist worth their salt would say so too. However, what I mean to point out, is that people get sucked in to their idea of normalcy- working hard, studying hard, making money, striving, avoiding hurt, deflecting pain, etc. We're so predictable.

However, consider this- so what? so what if I get hurt for no reason? My emotions would dictate that I seek closure, whether its an emotional tender hurt or a passerby who accidentally bumped in to me. A human being's first reaction is react to the source. We're so engulfed in our narrative, and the world we create in our perception. So what? So what if I don't get a good job and make a lot of money? So what if i don't get good grades? Actually, so what if I don't ever attend school? The truth is: nothing is permanent in this world, even on the timeline we currently as individuals exist on- everything and everyone is just another happening passing by. You're never as important as you think you are, while you are thinking at all. I feel our importance is highlighted more in our deaths than in our lives, and even then- temporarily, still. 

Who is a good person? Who is a bad person? What is bad or good, if we are all just another happening passing by? The ideal life in this case, would be to pass by so quietly that neither your presence nor your absence would cause ripples, wouldn't it? Why are people so serious? Why are they so serious about everything that they think they know, as if the choices they make and its consequences would influence reality. They won't, they are not as important as people think they are when they are thinking at all. Are human beings really creatures of wisdom? I think, once again, we have mystified our existence in order to give meaning to it. So predictable. Yet, every time we try to find purpose in our breath, we really only hurt ourselves. So what, though? Does it matter? Does it matter in five years if you are hurt today unjustifiably? It doesn't. Not at all. So why care so much? I can answer this. It's because we are human beings. Not bad or good, not successful or failure, just human beings.

People are animals of regret. We are animals of inherent regret, not because we might feel regretful over our choices but because we can never seem to be content, even when we say we are. In every aspect of our lives, be it minute or grand, we regret by wanting to do something else other than what were currently doing. We regret when we are bored and we regret when we are tired. This inherent and inadvertent regret that sits in all of us so deep that we really never recognize it as the feeling of regret, is what prompts us to seek stimulation, as if we can't stand to do nothing at all. I wish so much, that I could stand to do nothing- and that, I guess, is my regret.