One of those days...

So, today was one of those days. What kind of day, one of those. To be more specific, the kind of day where you feel disillusioned about everything, filled with a truth that does nothing to satisfy or improve, but only brings you down. The grim realization that most of what you do is futile in the grand scope of things. Every day will blur, eventually, and most memories will be forgotten.

I walked through the halls, watching the people in my school. Every one talked, animated gestures, expressions of joy, sorrow, or rage bedecking their faces like the fashion of the year. Every one of them takes the day so seriously, like it's the most important thing in the world. But when I watched them, hearing only music from my iPod, I saw the hollow truth behind it all. Most of what we do will amount to nothing, most of what we feel doesn't matter, and if someone were to kill every single one of these people, in 10 years, it would be nothing but an article in some newspaper archivew that most people acknowledge with a simple nod before changing the topic of conversation, just another "unfortunate tragedy" in our lives.

The sad part is, there is no moral to the story of our lives, unless one can delude himself so far as to see one. I will continue to live this pointless life, even though I am not sure of any purpose. Maybe some day I can delude myself and rejoin the blind masses who enjoy life, some day I can be ignorant again.

~ T

A Pointless Endeavor

I was reading "The Fountainhead" today, and I was visited by a familiar feeling. I feel that I am generally capable of appreciating the better things, whether they be art, literature, or even food. This talent, although useful at times, is a double-edged sword in the sense that I am able to recognize the flaws in any work that I create.

They say ignorance is bliss, and I believe that this is true in a sense. My lack of ignorance on the part of my inability to create flawless art inhibits any attempt to put forth effort in the pursuit of such works. When I can look at a painting which is exponentially more beautiful than anything I can make, a book which makes any story of mine trivial and crude, or a song which makes my musical meddling sound coarse, the state of affairs becomes truly demoralizing. How can I work at bettering myself, when there are examples of greatness all around me? If someone has the answer to this question, I would like very much to hear it. My future endeavors would benefit greatly from the support of a goal which is not hollow or false.