Desperately Deep and/or Deeply Desperate
In this post, I will examine why it is important for me to be deep, and why now. Specifically, why is it important for me that others see me as deep.
This isn’t a hunt for validation. This is a hunt for like-mindedness.
To me, I have always been this way. I have always wondered about things, explored possibilities in my mind, and reveled in discussions of controversy. Let me say, it is immensely difficult to find people that enjoy these things as well. Society hates a free thinker, and the free thinker knows that. So it will be suppressed. I know that’s what I did. I didn’t want the other kids to call me weird or say I’m stupid because I thought of things they didn’t think of.
Now here I am, not so young anymore, feeling like all of my life, I had no one to share my thoughts with. No one knowing who I truly am. I am desperate. I want to find my kindred.
This is the primary reason why I want to be seen as deep. There might be a myriad of other reasons, but this is the main one. I want others to see me as deep so that I will attract those kind of people. I want to find people that are interested in the same things I am. I seek that instant camaraderie potheads have when they find out the other guy smokes. So here I am, my way of telling the world I smoke pot.
Why now? A friend noted that it might just be the natural progression of things, like how kids stop playing with toys when they reach a certain age. Most kids at least, we all know a man-child. Though plausible, I wanted to explore the moment of change in my own mind. This was no mere step after all, this is a leap. The uninhibited and open expression of my thoughts is so new to me. The caterpillar of my mind, emerged and given wings.
Recently, I had a falling out with a friend, which led to a falling out with a group of friends. This was a group of friends that I have known for many years, people I had cherished as my inner circle. Suddenly, I felt ostracized and abandoned, wracked with the agony those feelings bring. Worst was that I did not understand why I was rejected. I thought about it, brooded over it, then I realized something: I was never myself around them. I never fully understood why they said or did certain things, let alone agreed with them. I decided that there was no point in pursuing the friendship, whatever the reasons of rejection, we did not help each other grow. Right at that moment, I was free. Free from yearning for acceptance, free from struggling to fit in, free to be the genuine me.
So here I am, bare, exposing my mind, unafraid of judgements, like the warrior who embraces death, and in turn, fights the most ferociously. I will look to him for inspiration.
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