I haven’t yet gotten a hold of that right formula of primitiveness and civilization in my life, for which I come back to it so often. For months now, I find it hard to be around people because I feel alone around them, because I haven’t yet embodied the “come-as-you-are” mantra that I keep repeating to myself. I’m certainly aware of my many social personas, each dying away, and I’m afraid to reveal the person behind them, even though this person is so comfortable and so content to be herself and with herself. And again, this feeling is so invisible, so untouchable, that I don’t know how to talk about it. When I cut myself off from everything, from people, from things, from events, from news, from being on any social media – when I, let’s say, don’t have any access to the world around me and no one needs or wants anything from me, neither do I, I feel so incredibly free. I have this intense sense of clarity and peace. Not every day, but there is so much peace in that, because no one has access to your state of mind. And I write so madly these days. It is about the quality of the writing, the hours spent writing, failing, arguing with myself, writing again. Even while I’m sleeping, I find myself waking up to debate a conversation (which is so frustrating and hilarious) that I haven’t finished during the day. And a part of that madness comes from being on fire all day, literally, and you can’t even tell anyone what that fire is.
“What is called abstract so often seems to me the figurative form of a more delicate and more difficult reality, one less visible to the naked eye.” — Clarice Lispector
It feels freeing not to need people so badly, not to be at places, to go to dinners, to dress up, to possess beautiful clothes and fine things (already sitting in my closet), and I still admire their beauty and vanity, but I’m happy to strip myself of them. And it is so freeing not to go on horrible dates anymore (had seen some horrible wrong people) or to drown in the shallowness of social appearances, or to drink so much that you feel so dizzy you don’t know how you can release that much energy built up within you. People just want to talk, but they don’t talk about anything, and you’re truly, truly hoping for true conversation. But how can it be (Sama) when you never talk about what is really important to you with most people? That is what really bothers me, because according to some, I’m a social butterfly. But I don’t feel the same anymore, and I don’t feel the same around the same things that used to make me feel good. And I am asking myself if something is up with me. Am I too unhappy? Am I losing myself? Am I becoming myself? Or am I becoming antisocial and losing all my friends? Or am I expecting too much? have I become disillusioned? yes and no. I just don’t know. I feel fine, quite fine. On the other side of that equation, there is connection and togetherness that you sometimes do not feel with the people who are really close to you, and you want it so badly to happen. But then you see this stranger’s face out of the blue, and you kiss him, and you know nothing about this person, and that clarity, that level of anonymity, that zero association with him creates a new dimension, and the music is all around you, and you both find yourselves pre-lingually mute, and neither of you rush the kiss. But it isn’t just tongues and saliva on autopilot. Rather, you kiss this person and your tongues lean timidly next to each other, and you get it. You truly acknowledge this person and yet you are not planning on uncovering who he is. But that true and brief connection that moment that is ephemeral and is going to fade at any second into the darkness of the space around you, but then you find each other again in that pre-lingual state. You feel this person for a moment for what they could be, without elaborating too much or filling the void, just imagining how many times this person cried, what makes them laugh, what moves them, what passes through their mind at night, what they are running from or running into or running around. And you don’t need to know those answers. You just acknowledge the full spectrum of that person’s individuality, exposed momentarily and vulnerably in front of you in this small moment. And you know that this moment was rare, and you kind of crave that type of human connection (possibly something more sustained), and you probably wish people could see and relate to each other this way.
And if I could only find the right balance of (primitiveness and civilization) in my life…