How to NOT analyse your consciousness

Cliche; I don’t know how to begin this. How do I know it’s a cliché? Because I somehow learned that many texts and self-conversations starts this way for people. People. As I always assume, they have the same value as me, they can also do things I can do like talk and walk, but although the similarities. None of us are similar. As I have learned somewhere: we don’t have the same values, we can all walk and talk, but in different ways. As much as there are similarities, there are in the same objection dissimilarities.

Confusing. A word that describes the will to understand and the feeling you constantly feel when you don’t understand. And right now, what I don’t understand, is what I want in my life. At the end of the day and at the start of the day, I wake up in this meat-suit. Who am I, but I? What is the purpose of >ME<. Is it important for me to feel compassionate? Because I am. But does everything else in this life matter, but me? Who are these other faces, and why is that I feel the urge to care about them? Does it even matter in the end – MY end?

My name. People has always made fun of it because it’s different and it sounds funny to pronounce. In later years I’ve just stopped to care and laughed with them about it. Probably why I find the name absurd and weird and different. Must be why I hate it; I’ve never learned to love the stamp mark of my identity.

It’s different. In this case different seem to be something out of the ordinary, something bad because it doesn’t match other similar identities. But in later years I still somehow learn that different is good: be different, be you, not a copy of someone else. But then I learn that the same people telling me that also put me down at a table, telling me what I do, how I act, how i speak or especially what I wear, is inappropriate: don’t be different, be normal, follow the deeds of good and normal people. How does that even fit into the equation of who I should be? Do I even have to be something? If not, it still doesn’t answer who I am.

Why do I own this consciousness. Why do I wonder so much. Why is everything upside-down and inside out and yin and yang and neutral. Who am I? What do I want? Why don’t I feel like I have an identity I’m proud to show? Why do I feel like everyone is always against me no matter what I do? What is this scream of attention I need from myself? Why don’t I know who I am, 19 years on the go. Why don’t I have clear political opinions and  unclear opinions about my life? What kind of weird fanatic am I? And why can’t I be the fanatic that stops going back and forth about my reality. Why can’t I follow something, an agenda, a movement, maybe even a lifestyle? That would be easier, less questions in my head. So many questions. How do I find myself? The biggest question of my life.

How to not analyse your consciousness: questioning it.

How to analyse it: Accept it. Accept everything you have for what it is.

Yet… accepting is not always moving forward. Not questioning things is to fall on one view of the world… why must there be so many… So much pain and so much beauty. If we don’t questions everything we know of, we fool ourselves by thinking we know… but do we really have to question our consciousness? Maybe it’s a subject no human mind have to touch? Yet, the reflection of self, it’s human. It’s an inevitable action of life, an action done by our consciousness..

Walk Dark Black And White Shadow Black Shadows

 

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