Circle.2

To righten what is half done is harder than fixing the unfinished work. Therefore, it will be difficult to examine myself and fix what is keeping me back from moving on. I have way too many unanswered questions, I don’t know which one to start from. While asking a question, I don’t feel obliged to answer them. Finding the right way to ask the question requires a lot already. I will try to answer my questions not because I have to but, to see what else I can find. Pretty much the same thing as cleaning up the storage room.

I never know when I come up with an idea and make it a principle. I also don’t know when I realised noting is obligatory in this life, if you don’t count the reptile side of the brain which tries to keep us alive no matter what. That part is a mystery because no one knows how much in control it is. Seems to me it decides pretty much everything. What layers we put around it while growing up, is called a character. Whether I have or not a personality is something else. I believe, in the process of surviving, I came up with some ideas to shape the personality I have which belongs to my name that was given at birth. I am obliged to fill the blanks about the questions that has been directed to me, no? What I like, where I am, what I aim to be, who I hate etc. I answer all these questions even if I keep silent because I already have some determiners. My age, sex, race, the way I dress, sound, walk so on and so forth. I may avoid answering at all rates, someone will presume the answers I’d give. I can as well come up with them myself.

However, I am someone very lazy. I am also someone who has contradicting ideas. I don’t have enough energy to explain each thought I have. How many would attempt to listen is another obstacle. Either way, as a child, it didn’t take me long to figure out I am not understood. I have these layers of character on me now, weighting on me. Being a burden. One thought fits the image I have, the other doesn’t. Therefore, I am unbalanced. I can’t decide what I am.

I came up with this character of mine. An image. Someone stubborn, a bit frigid, distant, awkward, unable to fit in. Average grades. Never the best, never the least. Neither unbearable nor pleasant. A disturbing person. How much of this image is me, I don’t know. I find it easier to avoid what I caused. It doesn’t always work out that way. I realised, people who loves me and cares for me, aren’t here because they like who I am. They kind of like the thrill of how I am uncertainly certain. The borders I have are non-existent. I am only 20 and people seem to know who I am better than I do. I am no longer the person who can decide who she is. I am bounded to my name and the image it represents. How can someone not feel obliged to do anything yet has so many bounds to the reality of oneself?

A person asks who gets away easily, because everything is dependent on the hate and love they feel towards other people. The one that asks how they can die happily because world is a work in progress and we’re here to learn how it functions. The unlucky ones ask why. There is no way out of the why. It follows you around, becomes the nasty suspicion.

Circle.1

Everything starts with childhood. How right is this statement? The reality of an individual is shaped before their birth. Is it possible to inspect and analyse life of an individual solely on its own? How much can one be thought outside of the conditions of their time and environment? How much do we carry others in ourselves? How much "individual" are we? Most used pronoun maybe I. What differentiates I from anyone else? What are the borders of an individual? Where does I end, and Others start? How can one be their own person?

How much of the Is out there feel as if each person out there are only mirrors? Blurry mirrors, distorting mirrors, broken mirrors, silver mirrors, long mirrors and double-sided mirrors… All nothing but mirrors that somehow reflect the Others' existence. Some may be conscious, some not. If everyone is only reflecting what is in front of them, how is it possible to claim there are 7, almost 8, billion individuals are inhabiting this planet?

 Is every person an individual? We all reflect to(?) others as children, that’s how we learn the basics of survival. Still, we are out here with different material. Does one need to get their surface covered with dust and dirt of information to get their identity, to be their own? Is it better to stop reflecting outside? How do we reflect ourselves then, by looking others? What if the vision is misleading because we aren’t opaque yet? See what you have in you by looking at what they have I them and vice versa. Where it starts and where it ends?

Illusion, on the other hand, is another concept. It requires the awareness of the capacity of others’ perception. Knowing the blind and weak spots, one can make others believe. Manipulating others to see oneself in a way is science. Manipulating others to see themselves in a way is a talent. Manipulating to make one see oneself is art.

I kept thinking whether it is required from everyone to know themselves. What happens when one gets to see oneself? Do we grow? Do we get depressed? What if we see but not see the whole? What if we see whole but cannot reason with it? What if seeing one’s reality is not enough to understand the whole reality? It brings me to the beginning: what is the line between an individual and the rest?

Does one have a frame determining one’s limits? Humans, for sure, have more transitivity than that.  But does everyone have the same capability of changing? Transparency and fluidity may help one to get out of one’s frame or extend the borders. However, it also creates confusion on what is I.

Obviously, I am here with way too many questions and I am not providing answers. Before childhood, there was an I that has been determined by other elements from biological factors to social, political, economic and psychological ones. Yet that I come to existence not complete. I am here aiming to find the answer to what makes an incomplete I whole and full? Funny part is that, while looking for an answer, we all fill the blanks somehow.

Disturbing the things that are not required to be disturbed. That is my doing. If no one truly doesn’t require to be disturbed, then why they are disturbed? If I ask one more question to the mind and the balance disappears, doesn’t it mean what named balance was only an illusion? Manipulating oneself to believe everything is answered is the evilness in humanity. The comfort of not questioning, not suspecting and pretending not being curious is only an illusion. The reality is that the only perfectly balanced being is the chaos itself.

I don’t know if it is required or not: naming the chaos is indeed a useless act. The uselessness of the act doesn’t make it meaningless. The meaninglessness doesn’t mean it won’t be performed. The perform of the act will or will not be successful. Either way, it would be something that happened. And anything that happened, or not happened will be the reason of the others that will or will not happen. I exist not because there was a child born with my name, to my family, in the same place and time. I don’t know why I am alive. How can I answer how I am alive without knowing why? What can I say on what I am here for? Does the existence really require an explanation? Do we have to name each relation everything and everyone has?

Or as my lover puts it: We can simply enjoy it.