Lately, I’ve noticed something about myself that I never really realized before. I often find myself leaving things of mine in random places. Not possessions, but just…marks, or something. I scribble thoughts, quotes, song lyrics, or just doodles in whatever place I can without getting caught. The school has a lot more feathers these days. These past few months, I’ve taken it to a new level. Commenting blogposts, leaving asks on tumblr, and even leaving letters in books I’ve borrowed. Just now, I asked myself: why?
Is it because I’m lonely and desperately crave some form of communication with people?
This is something that’s been on my mind a lot. I just want to talk to people. Maybe find someone like me. Here in cyberspace, people tend to be more open and honest, myself as a good example. People show who they really are, and that kind of gives me hope. There are people of substance out there, and I guess I’m just kind of starved of enjoyable interaction. So I reach out, in a very farfetched manner, I know, to see if anyone takes the bait. If anyone sees this little piece of me and wants to know more. Sad, but the truth.
Is it because I want to make someone’s life a little more exciting?
This is definitely a big part of it. I want to make people happy. I really do. When I write in someone’s askbox on tumblr, I write what’s truly on my mind. And every time, I’ve gotten this really appreciative response, because it’s so unexpected. When I read the response, my heart fills with happiness. It warms me to know that I’ve just made someone’s life a little better, even if it’s just temporary. And also, I would love to have that happen to me. To know that someone’s reaching out, letting me in to a tiny part of their head. That would be awesome. As you can tell, I’m essentially thinking of myself. Making someone happy makes me happy. And I love to be happy.
Is it because I’m scared of being forgotten?
I have two big fears – conflicts, and becoming irrelevant. It terrifies me to know that after I leave this life, all evidence of my existence could be erased. After I’m gone, what’s to say that I even lived in the first place? There’s a chance that I won’t even remember it, so is it real? These thought were recently spurred by my re-reading of Looking for Alaska, by John Green. That’s one of the books that now has a letter, written by me, in it. I really hope that existence can be explained as in the book, that we all consist of energy that was never created, and therefore can’t cease to exist. Anyways, I’m leaving marks so I can make as big of an impact on the world as possible…within reasonable limits. I just want to be remembered. That’s all.
I think it’s a combination of all of these, but ultimately – I’m just being selfish. Which made me think of altruism, as discussed in biology. The theory that every action has a selfish purpose. At first, I just couldn’t believe that there isn’t anything we do, solely to help each other. Then I though about it some more, and came to my own little revelation. We can’t just see it as generosity and selfishness, because both is one. They’re co-dependent, and together, the qualities works for the best for mankind. If you think about the whole universe as one, every selfish act is done for the entire population. I serve mankind, and mankind serves me, because we’re all part of the same thing. Enter the energy equation. Every single person is important, because we all, every single one of us, make up this world. And therefore, we are all essential to its existence. This whole universe thing is greater than each of us, but it consists of us all together. Our true essence, has not been created, and can’t be destroyed. This is the theory I choose to believe in, because it makes sense to me. And honestly, it gives me so much hope.