Postcard to Alice 080411

I thought this process took days. I thought I was schizophrenic. I keep changing my statements, my choices but this process has been going on for years. I wasn't experiencing an identity crisis. I thought I was but I was just scared.

Connections they're needs to. I had a certain level of connection with someone. Where I could lose myself within the self and tell him things I never told anyone. It didn't matter if he couldn't understand it. It was a big leap for me to just share it. However for him it was different.I knew what he wanted he was referring to the "Johannes Vermeer and the girl with the pearl earrings" connection.

Connections, how important are they?

Do I pretend to know? I can't because I don't know. I guess there was a time I pretended to know things.

But most of the time I can sense it but I can't convey it in words. If I may I'll let this postcard pave the way of my thoughts on some of the matters I failed to discuss because I was too scared.

Philosophy, I have always had this interest because it's about origins. The self and the truth. It questions everything that exists. If I may question my existence. I do feel like the truth is lost from all this thinking. And that we all have found ourselves to be a fabrication of the past thinkers. Influenced by what was written and what was said. In one conversations I had with someone he mentioned this too, I couldn't say anything simply because I could never find the right words. I am a novice in Philosophy. But I reflect and think a lot. A hobby really, so far without the influence of Socrates and Nietzsche I have thought about my existence.

Me - this world, my role, the people around me, the feeling of being alone. Why am I here? Will I be eradicated until every bit of my existence can no longer be validated by historians of the future. Here I am 28, for years I've looked at the mirror and saw nothing. Was I nothing? When I put two and two together it doesn't spell a single part of me. At least I don't feel it. Do I really feel? or is it just me thinking that I'm feeling? Why do I feel like everything I feel, I've had some random conscious effort to feel it. Like even before I touch something have I decided if it's hard, soft, hot or cold?

There are days I question God, sometimes out of spite, sometimes out of fear and sometimes out of sadness. Then I question myself questioning his existence. Why? what am I looking for? Most of the time I know that what I'm looking for is not here. Not in this world or in this time. Do I want something from within? Then I look again in the mirror and there it is again- nothing. I can't answer my questions it frustrates me. No one can. Then there's this feeling of being alone.

(Part 2 next)