spirit

Some call it an existential crisis. I call it waking up and smacking your head against ignorance of self. That's me. I've got the bruise to prove it. Wiki says an existential crisis is a stage of development at which an individual questions the very foundations of his or her life: whether his or her life has any meaning, purpose or value.
An existential crisis may result from:

• The sense of being alone and isolated in the world;
• A new-found grasp or appreciation of one's mortality;
• Believing that one's life has no purpose or external meaning;
• Awareness of one's freedom and the consequences of accepting or rejecting that freedom;
• An extremely pleasurable or hurtful experience that leaves one seeking meaning;

Lets take it point by point. A sense of being alone and isolated in the world. I was raised in the Jehovah's Witnesses faith which by default imprints this emotional crutch into its followers and their children. That's me. Raised from the beginning to think of myself as separate from the world around me. "In this world, but not part of it." Sidestepping the 'world's' morals, ideology and fate for the path of the righteous. Although I've since separated myself from that particular social cult, that early programming has found a home in this jaded garden of my psyche.

I didn't fit in with any of the followers. I didn't fit in with any of the blood. Twice removed from any sense of family I see myself as a free agent wandering the concrete reality. I've since recognized my innate hunger for a chosen family, one of my own making. Sifting through the sands of the mundane in search for the hidden jewels of soul. This makes me feel less alone in the world. There are others like me. Not many, but enough.

Mortality. Eh. Nothing new there. I'm good with the end. It was fun and I'll see you again.

Life's Purpose. Now we are on a vein. I have a purpose. I came here for a reason. If I could only remember what it is... This is a major chord in my song. We all come from somewhere and we will all go back there when we are done. We are made of the same stuff, but infinite combinations. We come with purpose written within our personalities. My personality demands the specifics, not content just riding on whim and desire. Unfortunately that file is not accessible to the general ego. Problem is I really need that information or I'm going to go normal. We don't want that.

Freedom. To love more than one. To expand the heart beyond culturally accepted norms. To tear down old modalities and replace them with dangerous ideas of freedom, honesty and courage. To say no, I can't anymore, I don't know, I don't want this, I need x.y.z. I need l.u.v. I need to leave, I need you, I need me, I can't breath, I feel weak, I can't see. To be. To live a life seldom seen. To experience the heights of permission and the depths of rejection. To believe in the power of finding a way to stay where you call home. To cry and ask why freedom is so beneficial.

Pleasure and Pain. What a delicious cocktail. My cup over flows. In the delirium of bursting neurons lies the crutch of the addict. What moral ethic can compare to the ecstasy of sensory orchestra? What promise can stand against the tidal wave of nerve clusters and primal instinct?

The breakdown is this. Amaze makes me feel alive again. I have fallen in love with her. Amaze wants a child one day. I don't know what I want, but I do know I want to be part of Amaze's future. That brings my prime purpose into question. Am I here to be a father? Or am I fated differently and not applicable to local codes and regulations? Serius is not a mother. She's known this since a young age and that will not change. Ever. If I choose fatherhood, then I have said goodbye to her and our marriage and Yes to a future with Amaze. If I do not choose fatherhood, then I have given up on a future with Amaze and might as well start packing my bags for Michigan. So it all revolves around ignorance of self. To be or not to be. To exercise my freedom to choose or to follow where I am summoned. So yes, its a bit of an existential crisis. To find myself or live out a life someone decides for me. Either way I go I've already lost.

On your mark.
Get set.
Cry.

Fuck this hurts!