Systematic

In English class right now, we're talking about systems, as in social infrastructure and stultification of individuality within those structures. Well, actually, we're talking about the novel Native Son by Richard Wright, and in our discussion, we've touched on those topics. At the same time, I'm reading a great novel called Who's in Charge by Michael Gazzagnia. It's about Free Will and the science of the brain, and in the novel, Gazzagnia questions the extent or plausibility of free will if we are controlled by the natural and physical laws of the universe. Anyway... I got to writing about some of the feelings I had one Monday morning, and I wrote them down, in a true to teenage-angst fashion in my personal notebook (while studiously ignoring the droning on of my class until it sparked my interest). I figured I might as well share those thoughts here. Ta-Da:

January 28th, 2013

Waking up this morning to shut off my alarm yet again, probably for the fifteenth morning in a row, felt horrible and ridiculous and pointless and stunting and disgusting. Why do I have to wake up every single morning to fit into a system? On the other hnd, what's the use of breaking out of one? Living deliberately could involve the system, and then leaving it would be a thoughtless rebellion that is not deliberate, just ranbunctious and pointless. In the system, at least, I'm exposed to countless others in the same exact position, and I can react to them and think with them and create new amazing things... For the system. Systematically trapped and cornered. There is no happy medium here. I believe in forum and communication and exchange of ideas, and I do not find these outside of the system, for who is there but wild dreamers who cannot convey their expeiences with me. It would be as if we spoke completely different languages, unconveyable to one another. However, everything I do now, in it, holds the bitter oily taint of that same system. Is it possible to find original thought in a place where every element exists in dynamic equilibrium and nothing is created or destroyed, just as matter in our observable universe? Musn't we ourselves follow the laws of the universe we claim to discover and experience? And, most jarringly, if all of this is truth... How can I ever exist enough to see the very thing which holds me in all its entirety?

I cannot.

See you when I see you.
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