#diary challenge

If you asked me, at this moment, where I came from, where I am, and where I'll go, I would give you three minutes of silence. Three minutes for three questions seems suitable, assuming that I would take about a minute to answer to each question, if I actually had an answer. Where did I come from? My mother and father, in love and impassioned, some early summer afternoon, I suppose. I came from a cluster of cells with a combination of genes from both parties, which divided and divided until I came into the world as an ugly little creature that did nothing but be bothersome and needy. I came from a being with little feeling or thought and I turned into one with profound amounts of both. Maybe that's where I came from-- But is it really? Was I really not an existing being before my parents decided to have me, was I really not a true human being (by my definition of the word) until I was capable of thought? The answers elude me. I will not accept the explanation of a God or a soul without proof, but I have no proof for anything at all, so I remain answerless.

Where am I? I'm on a bed, on a chilly February evening, thinking too hard about who I am and who I'm supposed to be. I'm thinking I should be doing more with my life, I'm thinking I should be making an impact, despite the fact that I am only nearly fifteen. Is that an excuse? Or do I truly not have the tools at my disposal to be who I want to be-- Or is it simply a lack of willpower? This is what compels me to write. I write to make myself known; I write to make myself a person to a world that is largely oblivious to my minute existence. But is this truly where I am? Am I only on a bed on a chilly February evening, or am I in my head, across worlds, across time? If I were to reach out right now, maybe I could touch the stardust of another universe, sideways across time, if only with the tendrils with which my mind can travel so much further than this tool I call my body. It anchors me to this plane of existence that perturbs an disturbs and awes me and takes my breath away all at once, making me wish both destruction and prosperity on a world humanity has both tainted with hatred and painted with beauty. I am here, thinking, that humanity is a coin, with two sides, both heads-- One with eyes to the horizon and one with eyes in the mirror. Unfortunately the coin is fixed, landing on the latter more than the former when flipped.

Where will I go? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.

The options laid out before me are too plentiful, and my experience is so little. How can I choose my future when I can hardly understand my past? How do you expect me to move forward into a world so unknown to me? I suppose that's life, staring me pitiless in the face and asking me, “What else did you expect?” I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. You frighten me life, you know. Every day that passes by me in the blink of an eye without a single thing produced, every day I lie in bed and lie to myself, saying I'll be greater tomorrow, terrifies me and chills me in my core.

I write to produce. I write to busy a mind that would otherwise be running in constant circles through time.

Maybe I'll complete this challenge. I hope so. For now, I just needed to write-- Needed to feel like I was doing something.