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I've come to realize one thing lately. 

The realization came because for some reason there have been a lot of very unhappy people around me lately. Mostly they are unhappy just because of the natural course of their lives. Expected miseries, rather than catastrophies, that is.  Someone has a strong antipathy towards someone else. Someone's marriage is a disaster. Someone's sick of their job.  Someone is disturbed about the politics. Someone's daughter was dumped by her boyfriend. Someone's just too sick to enjoy life fully. Mundane causes of anguish, no drama.

What actually hit me was that the people in question were older than me, oftentimes much older. All these 30- 40- and 50- seem to be walking dead, at times it seems. Now here's the thing: up until a week ago I had a certain strong belief, a belief that ran through the very gut of my mind if I may say that. It was...let's say a belief in progress. A deep conviction that first, I'm imperfect now and second, that I can and will be more perfect in the future. That is, there was a sincere assumption in me that today is a draft of life, in a way. Yet tomorrow I'll rewrite it, I'll make it work the way that's congruent with my ideals. 

But as I look at those people, shadows of who they once were, a cold understanding hit me: I bet they too believed in "progress" when they were 17, 20 or even 25. That their perception of life would become clearer, that their actions would become more enlightened one day and that until then they could just play their way through life And yet...they are clearly in decline now, their youthful fantasies gone like water in dry sand.

Yeah, friend, I told myself: it ain't getting any better for ya than it is right now. Ever. Future is not that magical time when you can make things right, when you can achieve something that you feel you're lacking now. Contary to the popular belief, you will not become wiser, perhaps just more cautios or cynical but that's about that. The thought scares the shit out of me but from a purely logical perspective this is the only conclusion I may draw: I've never seen middle-aged or old people who'd be in any way happier or fulfilled than myself. Usually I see people who are complaining more, who are more careful, who're more afraid. Why I should follow any different path, am I unique, am I better than others?

The best of my life has passed. The mental, emotional and spiritual freedom that I had when I was under 21 or 22 will never come back. Through strenous effort I may force it to make a brief appearance on my conscious horizon, but only briefly and only as a vivid reminder rather than a living experience. An old man is farther from a child than any galaxy from planet Earth, it's just that simple. Depressing shit, eh?

Well, not exactly. Just like before, I know that my here and now is a rather unimpressive thing in and of itself. Yet with this new insight I see the futility of sweating over my future-- I'll be worse off in it no matter what the hell I do. Worse off psychologically, that is, internally. This way of seeing things fills me with an acute sense of freedom to live right now, to do stuff now, or I'll never do it for ahead of me are ultimately only worms and the grave. That's a precious clarity of vision, even if what is so seen is not desirable at first.

...I'll fly very far tomorrow. And I'll remember about that strong sentiment that made me write this entry so out of the blue. I'm falling from a tall fuckin' building, we all fuckin' are. Due to a strange peculiarity in our brains when we're young we tend to believe that we're flying up. But we're falling. The only difference between the moment to come and this moment is that in the next moment we'll be closer to the ground and we'll have less time to look around, to breathe, to sing, to play, to screw, to cry, to laugh. Understanding this difference makes all the difference that merits to be called that. When and if I land in that jungle city I've got a ticket to, I'll remember that. I'll try to make it so that when my nose finally smells the dog shit on the street that I'll be about to hit after the prolonged fall from the roof, I won't have very many regrets. Insead of very many I'll just have many. I'll try to make sure of that.

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