Probably my most honest essay. That's also why it was the hardest and took the longest to write.
Existence Divided
Between my thoughts and my actions lies a chasm, so vast that the other side is barely visible. One can only guess at what lies there. I do not know if a bridge ever existed, and the longer I ponder it, the more distant the answer becomes.
What has once been shattered cannot be made whole again. Perhaps with torn pages of a book, but not with stone. The Grand Canyon, after all, will never reunite—unless only a single, uneven yet undivided piece of rock remains.
And therein lies the problem: where do I stand in all of that?
On the side of my mind, or on the side of my actions?
Or am I suspended somewhere in between, fallen into an endless abyss?
I know reason should guide behavior.
Yet they are too far apart to connect.
Whatever steers me, it is not my intellect, not my mind.
Does this mean I am losing my mind?
Control has been absent for years. Lost over the last years.
And time travel is impossible.
Maybe one day, but by then I will already lie beneath the soil, flesh long decomposed, bones the only remnants.
My mind is quicksand, and I am already sinking, meters deep.
Shouldn’t one assume that it can still plan, still guide behavior?
Perhaps.
But logic does not guarantee reality. Most often, it contradicts it.
Everything that exists, that has ever existed, is paradoxical—life, humanity, perception.
I should reconcile myself with this fragmented existence.
But I cannot. I am haunted by the awareness that my perception is abnormal, that others wield control effortlessly. For them, reason and action are aligned. They are not lost in an abyss. They know who they are. More or less.
I, however, have been torn to pieces beyond repair.
I am mere existence.
And yet, I yearn for more.
The more time passes, the wider the abyss grows.
I do not know why I act as I do. It simply happens, as if an alien force has taken root within me, commanding my every word and motion.
But that force is not me.
Do I truly exist, or do I merely exist?
I am nobody.
And I cannot remember who I once was.
Was I ever somebody at all?
Even time is fractured.
Often, it feels as if I awaken from a coma, in a moment detached from the one just before. Seconds stretch and shift without warning.
Memories are colorless, blurry, fragmented. Only fleeting images remain, stripped of emotion, intangible.
Even bonds are fragmented, tethered to presence. I can feel for someone only while they are near. Once they depart, all warmth vanishes. They become indifferent, empty.
I know they matter - objectively- but without the spark of feeling, I cannot grasp what, or why.
Only in their return do they creep back into the light.
People are suns. I am ice.
