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Why?
Tuesday, February 4, 2014 at 7:34 PM
I constantly see things in altered and varying perspectives. It's tiring sometimes, that I always seem to be in shambles, apathy dominating my expression, when actually just deep in thought. I am never sure of anything in life, except about a select few that matters, and everything else I confront with uncertainty.
I have never come to terms with myself. I am but a scattered mess, without absolutely any idea what I am supposed to be as a whole. I do not know myself, what I can do, and why I insist in complicating what should be simple. I try to be in tune with the times, to seek solace in knowing that I do not need to know.
But I need it. I need answers. And all I have are questions that reek of cynicism and half-baked ideas.
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“In most books, the I, or first person, is omitted; in this it will be retained; that, in respect to egotism, is the main difference. We commonly do not remember that it is, after all, always the first person that is speaking. I should not talk so much about myself if there were anybody else whom I knew as well. Unfortunately, I am confined to this theme by the narrowness of my experience. Moreover, I, on my side, require of every writer, first or last, a simple and sincere account of his own life, and not merely what he has heard of other men's lives; some such account as he would send to his kindred from a distant land; for if he has lived sincerely, it must have been in a distant land to me. Perhaps these pages are more particularly addressed to poor students. As for the rest of my readers, they will accept such portions as apply to them. I trust that none will stretch the seams in putting on the coat, for it may do good service to him whom it fits.”
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