Life (for me) now is a bunch of materials all bunched up together and held with superglue, gravity, sticks and stones. At any moment, I could just fall down, or grow higher and higher. I don’t know anymore.

Heh, only partially interested in what goes on around me. Things are in a state of semi consciousness, I know of the politics that are happening, some grandeous scientific ventures underway and just my internal state of affairs in its usual calamitous ways. Human relationships are intriguing, and I don’t think many of us ponder about it beyond the general definition of being family or friend.

Patience? How long do you have to wait before you don’t have an ounce of hope left? I don’t know why, but one feels at ease if you could quantify something. Everything is about benchmarking, if you’re achieving something tangible, you feel more confident with your progress. That’s why we do the things we do to strive for material wealth, perhaps as a benchmark to prove something?

Sometimes longing for something is more desirable than having something. Your imagination runs wild wondering how things would be like. Having something, stuff loses its intrigue and you start to reason out all the pros and cons. Objectivity without bias only happens without preference. Looking forward to new sensations is just as poisonous as holding back and thriving on the things you’ve become so accustomed to. It becomes an addiction of sorts that you’d unwillingly give up.

* * *

It’s odd how people have worked out how social functions form. The first introduction and meeting never really mean very much. The idea is that you’d only meet this person once in your life and never see them again. No point wasting precious neurons forming the synaptic patterns that become permanently imprinted as an impression in your mind.

The second meeting knowing you’ll have a third and so forth, the mind is more at ease, and you are yourself as much as you’re willing to be as a public face. Candid, jovial. As long as there is the confidence of being accepted, not just by yourself, but those around who are close to you. That is the chameleon at work, always changing colours to find fit.

Then there are those who are straight faced no matter what situation they are put into. The confidence these people exude boast an ego that worries not about one’s frailties. The confidence disregards the need to be accepted, just the need to be acknowledged. That acknowledgement, can be as singular as the person who needs it.

* * *

My mind is constantly like that. Wondering about the things that make us tick. It’s cryptic only because too much goes on with too little being said.