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I don't know what it is about the wee hours of morning, the ones that still linger lovingly on the last fading moments of the previous night that make me feel this way. Well, not this way specifically, but in the general, airy, disconnected-with-reality sense. It's as though this room, this tiny island of light cast from the computer monitor, is the only thing that exists, and beyond it is an infinity of darkness and void. We float here in nothing, trying desperately to create solid land in our own mind. No tools, no template, just a vague desire. God may have fashioned this universe, but now we need to make our own. My own.
I cannot say with accuracy that it's a meaning of life that I seek. Rather, what I desire is a worthy -search- for a meaning of life. Something to look for, something to work for, some single, burning search to consume me. What I want is a mission. My sleep-deprived brain suggests that I could in the very near future stumble across some epiphany that will then lead me down a twisting path toward some shining destination. And I have never been one to let reality stand in my way.
What is my Holy Grail? Where is my Mecca? Whose legacy will I embrace? I don't know. I don't KNOW. And the uncertainty leaves me stranded in my own self. I feel like without something to tie me down with obsession or, at the very least, unwavering determination, I will simply float unchecked into the sky, to be lost forever.
Oh, the melodrama. Shall I blame adolescence?
High school psychology teaches that mine is an age in which one searches for ones identity. I seem to have foresaken that particular quest in favor of this far more infuriating one. I just want to be a part of something, an integral part. I don't even know what -kind- of something I want to belong to. Universal? Metaphysical? Pan-dimensional? Gods help me, I don't know. All I'm certain of is that this won't be assuaged by some mundane, local social participation.
I want to make ripples in fate.
Maybe this restlessness is a result of having far too much free time. Maybe it's a symptom of budding megalomania. Or, maybe, I should really start keeping a normal sleep schedule.
"You need chaos within, to give birth to a dancing star."
-- Friedrich Nietsche