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In the vast spectrum of things to fear in this chaotic world that still holds such endless beauty, reason has a plethora of roles ranging from prevalent to nearly absent.  The presence of rationale is at best an affectation in the clutches of anxiety, and usually remains largely irrelevant.  There are distinctive purposes in the nature of fear, yet maybe the word is thrown around too much.  It is not surprising when one stumbles upon one of the many instances in which language is largely inadequate.  But that is neither here nor there.  The point is, fear serves a purpose.  But the variety that has come to plague all of us monkeys with inflated egos makes one wonder if this primal instinct that initially functions to prevent one from entering dangerous situations has been thoroughly distorted by the largely unnatural ways in which we conduct our lives, if you can really call it living.

So fear.  Yeah, it’s a bitch.  It consumes the mind and renders the super computer between our ears mostly useless.  But when it’s at least tangible, you can deal with it to some extent.  For example, you walk into a room with grizzly bear that seems a bit peckish, yeah, we get that.  Simple.  Poisonous snake, yep, elicits fear.  A mushroom cloud followed by a shock-wave, uh-huh, pissing ones pants will inevitably ensue.  But there’s a dark and cold layer of fear that can exist in the worlds we seem to fabricate quite regularly.  Our own little existences derived from constructs that follow our own personal laws of the universe.  After-all, we are exceptionally self-centered.  So it makes sense that one can come to fear or at the very least dread, and i know, word choice, but stick with me, so it makes sense that one can fear something completely abstract or poses no physical threat to self.  This is where it gets delightfully messy and nonsensical.

Out of all these wonderfully arbitrary things to dread, one might ask why I am interested in the fear of happiness.  First you need to decide on what range of interpretations to keep in mind as to the nature of happiness.  And what is a common trait of most sources of anxiety?  The unknown or unfamiliar.  If it is something seemingly uncommon, then you can kind of see what I mean when I say the fear of happiness.  Again, word choice, so maybe anxiety is more fitting.  Most people will likely think it stupid to be apprehensive of the one thing we all seem to strive for, but simply because it seems the general goal people have in mind when it comes to living doesn’t save it from the potential of having that trait of unfamiliarity.  Even more, if the potential scarcity is added to an instance of brevity, then we have a moment in which we can think that we are worse off than we were before we were happy.  Thus the apprehension of future instances.

As long as we don’t think of it as malevolence of potential happiness, then we can kind of see the reasoning behind it.  It is not hatred that is driven by fear-mongering.  It is caution kept at a safe distance and heavily scrutinized.  It isn’t dread.  It’s remembering the agony that crashed down on our blissful little moment of joy.  Even if it’s not so far as dreading happiness, suspicion is more than enough to present a problem.  Either way, the real issue is how much these sentiments toward possible happiness can impede the actual experience.  Or even prevent us from ever having them.  Sometimes we just need to let ourselves be happy and not brace for the potentially destructive and messy end.  Just stop reading in to everything so much and enjoy what may already be scarce and brief.  I mean, if the thought of happiness already elicits these responses, then it likely doesn’t happen very often.  Enjoy it.  Revel in it.  Be that moment, because the sooner we allow ourselves to simply experience what is happening, the sooner we can truly reflect on it.  To not just see it as the tragic end, but the entire journey.

A Curiosity

It is a curious thing to be alone and surrounded by other pulses and thoughts and gestures.  A state where anything and everything is outside a sad little world we’ve created for ourselves.  A shattered castle on a dying land, looking around at everything that appears beyond us.  The closest we come to any tangible interaction is deep and despairing suspicion that climbs up our spines and digs into our shoulders, whispering fear into our minds.  Breathing sadness and eating anger, we seem incapable of escape from our own solitude.  It is not simply a matter of one inquiring soul who happens to stumble upon our kingdom of emptiness.

One interesting thing is how we come to despise what seems the only reprieve; hope.  Hope becomes distorted and twisted into a malicious entity waiting to tear apart our already shattered existence.  Building our fragile world only to have further to fall.  It is the nature of our dilemma; the fabric of our world.  Often times any vestige of relief is wasted peering under rugs and around corners looking for what we perceive to be the inevitable end to our stint at joy.  Dragging our feet so as to have less ground to cover as we will undoubtedly have to crawl back to our lonely little haven of self-loathing.

Another common trait seems to be the irrational sense of them and us.  Them being everyone else, no matter their current state.  Someone can be just as bitter and helpless as us, yet we shove them away and assume they only want to hurt us.  As if despair is some elaborate ploy.  After all, it’s only reasonable to suspect the least threatening person of the desire to wreak havoc upon our sad little world.  The thing is, one has to wonder if a life spent like this renders any obvious signs as to the true nature of our inner existence completely hidden.  What we think of as a fissure in the nature of our being is viewed outwardly as the smallest of cracks.  We hate the world for not being aware of it, yet we’ve become so accustomed to it, it is no wonder it goes unnoticed.  After a certain amount of time, it becomes us.  It is no longer a retreat into our own depression.  It is our psychological home.  It becomes the baseline, and no one is aware of it.

I have no resolution, no advice.  I have no idea what is to be done.  Stop caring?  Remove yourself from your own existence to the extent of which it seems more as if you are viewing someone else.  After all, if you convince yourself it is someone else’s pain, it doesn’t really hurt, does it?  Or maybe it’ll just go numb sooner.

Making Monsters

Certain aspects of desire are more than manifestations of inner self.  Desire is also driven by sociocultural nuances that have a sort of ripple effect.  The constructed intentions that start these waves move out in all directions and affect other ripples, creating unpredictable developments.  What seems so simple at first becomes a mind-numbing sprawl of discontent that vaguely resembles the simplest of desires.  It only makes sense that this constantly swarming web of affects leaves one with multiple avenues of discontent for each aspect of their lives in which they feel accomplished.  There is no end to yearning.  It is the basic element that drives one to obtain something.

But the attempted manipulation of this inherent element of human nature is what leaves us with heavily distorted perceptions of importance.  It is as if we now want to want, and procuring objects of desire is merely a secondary function.  Addiction, obsession or fixation.  These all play into the perpetuating field of supposed dreams that caress our minds every waking moment.  On the surface, it is typical and to be expected.  But the further these distortions delve into our psyche, the more they pollute any sense of satisfaction we already have.  Even more, this inner turmoil is continually affected by the exterior world, reminding us of the basic elements of yearning we have yet to obtain.

It is no longer a matter of have and have nots.  The simplicity that drove humans for thousands of years is now fragmented and impossible.  Frustration and infinite sadness pick apart our minds, creating destructive forms of obsession that will always be directed towards what is out of reach.  With crippled hands we try to grasp ideals that don’t exist, that are just mutations of our minds that continue to shape unrealistic expectations,.  With this, we have made a population of monsters.

Don’t Ever Stop

Each day we wake up to a world that is largely unaware of our existence, and for the tiny fragment that is, we can assume that our best interests are not in mind.  It is not to say the world is cruel, just that there is so much going on that it can easily become daunting to realize how unimportant we are to a constantly swirling mass of bodies.  We try so hard to make an impression, to prove our worth.  We all just want to be important in some way.  We move about, day to day, in our little bubbles comprised entirely of subcultural populations looking for someone to care about us.  We look for our niches, and sometimes, we look for one person whose world we can become.  But it is selfish to expect to mean so much to one person.  We leave vague impressions hoping that, over time, they will come to fruition and offer us intimate relations.  Even more, we often hope for this so much that we allow ourselves to become a part of something that is terribly insufficient.  But, as long as we have something, that’s better than nothing.  Right?

When we’ve but one life, I’d have to say something is not better than nothing.  Settling for something can keep us from experiencing, for all intents and purposes, an infinite world of somethings that wait in our future.  Granted, the shear scope of ‘somethings’ renders our level of cognition useless for prediction.  Many view a vast world of uncertainty as something terrifying, yet, fear is very much a necessary aspect of life.  It is not wrong to fear the unknown.  It is, however, inadvisable to let this fear of the unknown cripple ones drive towards this massive realm of potential, forcing us to accept what we currently have.  After all, bodies in motion, right?

Devote yourself to continually moving forward, to fend off stagnation and experience all that your single life has to offer.  Contentedness at an early point in life could easily place you in a point in which no single thing is terribly wrong, but something is eating at you, day in and day out.  This thing is likely the vast realm of potential you never utilized.  You find yourself living weekend to weekend, vacation to vacation.  All time in between is routine and you lose drive to improve your life.  Then materialistic incentive becomes your motivation for continuing on your path of acceptance.  You seek absolution in arbitrary inanimate objects, and maybe even live your life of forgotten dreams vicariously through your children.

Don’t always make the safe decision.  Don’t choose the most predictable.  Don’t seek definition in religion because you’ve reached the point in your life where little more seems at your disposal.  And most of all, don’t condemn your progeny to the life in which you fell short of the bright-eyed dreams you held so dearly back when adventure was your impetus.  You will never experience all there is, but rather than that impeding your motivation, let if it motivate you to rush forward into your life in hopes of absorbing all the experiences you can.  Success and failure quickly become insignificant when you always have another goal in mind.  Do not stop.  Ever.

Brevity and Infinity

The life you lead is often directed towards brief moments of happiness and can easily become not unlike an addiction.  Always seeking the next high, no matter how brief.  To live for single moments that prove sparse as your life unfolds can develop into an insatiable yearning in which your expectations shift like ghosts, and no matter how close you seem to grasping them, they will fade into hazy tendrils that will forever slide just outside your reach.  In the midst of this fixation, you can easily lose the vast stretches of your life that you view merely as a means to an end.  But in life, there should be no means to any ends.  Nothing should ever seem final or absolute.  This is life.  Your journey is what is truly important.  This is what will continue to shape you as a sentient being until the last breath escapes your body and your existence has become a punctuation in time and space. 

Rather than treating life as a quest to reach an insurmountable peak, remove your gaze from that distant point and look at the world as it unfolds around you.  Realize the shear complexity of influence and affect that is as much a part of who you are as the air you breath.  Your thoughts are reactionary impulses that are constantly being touched by every single thing you will ever experience.  To say, “live in the here and now,” doesn’t quite do the sentiment real justice.  The here and now is more than just this instant.  It is a crescendo of everything you’ve ever encountered.  It is who you were years ago, who you were days ago, and who you are becoming.  Identity is a story that will never completely end, because your actions will carry on well after you are gone.  This is your legacy. 


Ours is a time in which vestigial manifestations of social imperative keep us inextricably linked to a world whether or not we wish it.  Where social interactions open out into the world on an incomprehensible scale, we tend to pour ourselves into a digital representation of who we are that rarely comes anywhere near conveying who we actually are.  Projections of thought are now quantifiable in this cyber world.  Attributing value to actions that crave reactions, but on this massive scale.  When the world becomes bigger, individuals become much smaller. 

Now we carry devices that are hyper sensitive and proportionate to this ever-increasing binary world and sociocultural impetus starts to develop an insatiable hunger for digital affirmation.  Even more, the nature of this newly formed vestige of human interaction often makes us all privy to the potential size of acknowledgement.  We seem almost driven to have the world recognize us simply for the sake of it.  Granted, most don’t ever seek truly global recognition, or even acknowledge it as a possibility, but the massive potential is enough to drive us towards a goal, of which most don’t even know the reason for wanting. 

When our own personal worlds become miniscule compared to the world we are in, a point of contentedness can seem almost unobtainable.  We can reach a point of expectation in which we think time spent without digital interaction is some bizarre manifestation of our own personal importance, or lack thereof.  We seem to forget that every single person we’ve ever met and interacted with has their own personal network that is not directly connected to the rest of the world.  Just because we can’t know when we cross the mind of another doesn’t mean we should assume that we never do.  This rationale is not unlike the notion children tend to hold in which they claim they can’t be seen so long as they can’t see who may or may not be seeing them.  I think we can all agree that we can benefit from unplugging from time to time. 

The Terrified, the Vigilant

There are times in our fragile little lives in which we have to decide if we can allow things to be alright.  When habituation and expectation have paved a life of disappointment and suffering alleviated by brief windows of time in which we can forget about everything else.  The world becomes a sprawling mass of harsh edges of which many can directly impact you, and every new element strolling toward your fickle existence is watched with a suspicious eye.  How often does one approach a novel experience as if inching around a corner that serves as the only thing standing between you and untold agony?  Fear and time are the only companions in these hours of desperation, and any glimmer of reprieve is treated more like an unstable explosive.

When does one decide to leave their comfort zone?  When it seems anything that could possibly affect you positively will digress to an inevitable demise, exposing yourself can become a rarity.  This is when one can find conviction and place themselves in the wake of the immeasurably complex world unfolding around them.  This massive network of reaction can quickly become your liberation.  Infinitely changing, offering limitless experiences and redefining your perception of the world constantly.  Embrace the uncertainty that glares at you from the future.  Don’t just walk out into the unknown.  Sprint vehemently outward into possibility.  True, you’ll likely stumble from time to time, and you will fall flat on your face.  Would you rather hide in your dark little hole the rest of your life, cursing all things outside your constricted experience, or wear the scars you’ve accrued through years of seeking out the novel with vigilance like a badge?  Let me ask you this; which would you prefer in someone else?  Well, that settles it.  Go out and stop being afraid to live your life.

Limited Options

There are punctuated moments in your life in which it is no longer a question of whether or not the metaphorical shit has hit the fan.  Where you are left to ride the wake of reality reminding you of just how small and insignificant you really are.  In these moments, your available reactions are reduced to a handful of very powerful and blinding options, and the underlying theme seems to be powerlessness.  No matter the circumstances, the here and now of these moments is quite simply beyond your affect, and any action will inevitably be extremely potent. 

The options that batter your mind in these moments range from blind rage, debilitating sadness or laughter from a source that many would consider insanity.  Perhaps there is another option, but this is troubling, to say the least.  This option is no reaction at all.  Where every avenue of import slides over you like a thick fog, and you stand, solitary, immovable, detached and outside reality. 

What is the best option, you ask?  There is no best option.  In this moment, nothing you do will alleviate the situation.  It just is, and you have to deal.  So I say, when there is nothing else to be done, laugh.  Laugh at how powerless you are and how fickle your life is.  Detriment has a way of losing momentum over time.  So ride it out with a disturbing smirk and carry on about your business. 


Imagine a world dauntingly large yet so confined it seems to be on the verge of suffocating you constantly.  Where any and all decisions and actions branch out into a network so complex that one can hardly conceive of it, let alone predict where these affects will lead.  Always questioning every minute aspect of every day, worrying over things well beyond your control.  Where potentiality is inadvertently and inexplicably linked to you and you alone.  Terror unendingly crawling up your spine, as if its cold hands are always resting lightly on your neck, moments away from strangling you. 

In this world, no amount of rationale can free you of this perpetual weight.  Often times it seems the only reprieve comes at the price of inebriation, and a strikingly inadequate reprieve, at that.  All opportunity before you seeming to hide unknown pain and suffering, and the safest place seems to be exactly where you are; alone, confused, and dreaming of a world free of this burden.  Even more, every time you venture outside your tiny fortress of solitude, that light grip on your neck begins to squeeze.  Helpless, infinitely sad, and destined for a life whose only acquaintance is fear.  Until you just let go.  Let go of everything.  All hope, fear, worry, and anger.  You trade your little fortress for a bubble impervious to the world around you, always moving, staying well ahead of the stagnant pool of your frustrations.  Some may call this calloused, but I call it learning to live with your condition.  The hopeless cave in which you’ve been hiding will never change.  It’s better to move around the world detached than to huddle in your dark haven of emptiness. 

Silly Little Worlds

Lives fall apart, just as lives coalesce, constantly folding in on each other; a beautiful display of chaos, pain and ecstasy perpetuating the ever-changing interactions that largely define our worlds.  One moment, unbelievably frail and fickle, the next more real and concrete than our very perception of the world around us.  We are inevitably drawn to others by a force inexplicably linked to our awareness, evident in an infinite array of potentialities.  Single words failing to convey the complex nuances that comprise each and every relationship.  Your past, a palate of countless shades of your interactions, the present, merely a fragment heavily emphasizing a handful of these potentials, and your future filled with never-ending variations of all your life has to offer. 

And we are left to continually project outwards, into the unknown cascades that our actions and decisions will unleash.  Rarely are we surprised by a souring affinity, but how amazed are we at the fruition of an unexpected conjunction.  So quickly does a new development consume our mind, driving us to jettison a slew of possible developments into the unknown future, only to realize, to our dismay, the rarity of actualized hypotheses.  Not that this brings only discord, due to our severely limited means of predicting the futures that lay before us, untouchable, impervious and always teasing our concept of affect.  There is always the chance of being taken entirely by surprise, to be hurled into a realm of possibility we’d never considered.  Filling mind and body with electricity and excitement, driving doubt and worry deep down into the fissures of our minds reserved for fear.  Sleep well knowing tomorrow can offer you a rebirth into a world completely novel and filled with possibility. 


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