There is this need in me, to do something, to accomplish something.
I taught myself, years ago, a lesson. This lesson was that wanting something is as destructive as creating something.
See once you realize that your hands and your beautiful mind have the power to give birth to something, they will never stop wanting to do more, wanting to be more.
This want, this wanting of something more every second of your life made me forget the hands and the mind that established this want. It is so easy to lose yourself to your desires. They consume you. They eat you up and spit out the remains for you to make garbage out of.
I thought I taught myself a good lesson. A lesson I can give to others. But now I realize that this lesson was only half learnt and half remembered. My grabby hands and gritty mind forgot what it is to feel the energy of sculpting something beautiful. They were too choked by their inability to control this cancerous desire that they forgot what it felt like to breathe through the art they were capable of creating. They drowned in their unquenchable thirst to generate that they forgot what it felt like to float in the vastness of creating. They became a machine that only knew that it had to produce but not why it has to.
A book of great name has a line that gets stuck in my head on repeat.
"The world is not a wish granting factory", it goes. This statement is, in a way, therapeutic. It tells you that the world we live in, make a living off of and starve to please, will not come running to fulfill the wishes we make. It is a phrase that I can sympathies with. I can burrow in this for the winter and wear it like a warm, fuzzy coat. This morbid sentence is comfort to me because of the reality it offers.
A world is waiting out there to adhere to my every whim. A world is waiting patiently out there to feed me its every resource so that I can eat its existence alive. A world is spiraling out there, out of control, waiting for me to be its savior. But, I do not live in any of these worlds. They do not matter to me or my reality.
I live in a world where I'm perpetually faced with the consequences of my action or the lack there of. I live in a world where the decisions I make are result of not having any choices that can lead me onto the journey I want to take. I live in a world where a minute action I may make will set off a chain of reactions that may end in the destructions of someone else's warm and fuzzy.
This precarious life that I lead is the reason I am alive and well. This is the reason for everything I have and everything I don't.
This is the reason for my desires and the reason my hands and head won't listen to me anymore.