If you ask me if I believe God exists, my answer would be no. But I still go to temple. Voluntarily. Why do I do that? I am not afraid of God. I don’t believe some divine judgement will be passed upon me if I don’t go to temple. I don’t have any love of God either. So why do I go to a temple and talk to God about how I feel I don’t believe that God exists? I think I know the answer to that. I want to believe that there is an entity which can make everything right when no one else can. I do it for false hope.
I am unsure about my thoughts. There was a time when I was depressed, sure that the world is full of nothing but miseries. The tiny happy moments just give you a false notion that the world is a great place. Now, I don’t know what to believe. I cannot write because I am not sure what I think or used to think is even correct or not. What I write puzzles even me. I don’t know how you feel. If I was in your place, I would think that this is all gibberish and nonsense; but I am in my own place and I realise my inability to form sentences that make sense. I miss the feeling of being sure all the time about everything. I miss the feeling when I knew nothing really matters. Nothing at all. Now I am just conflicted about everything. I am not even sure that I can keep on writing with these conflicts residing in my mind.
I still have some thoughts though. I don’t know what I want to become in life. I have pondered over this question and I have come to the conclusion that there is nothing in this world that can satisfy me for the rest of my life. But my problems don’t stop here. Sometimes I don’t like to do anything at all. Sometimes I want to do everything – make music, write books, make novels. Usually artistic stuff. My inner voice that wanted to something for science died about three years ago. My inner voice that wanted to do something for humanity was never there. I have been called immature, that I need to grow up. I just ask myself, what good will growing up bring me? Grown people are miserable, worrying about everything. I am born at a time where there is no real threat to my life or my way of living. I don’t need to kill the boy. I can refuse to grow up. I refuse to grow up. But I think that there is a bigger reason behind mu refusal. I think I am afraid. I am afraid that I will not have fun in my life. I am not sure if I am afraid to grow up or I don’t want to grow up. If you are having trouble what I really mean by the last sentence, you can imagine if you are afraid to jump in a river or you don’t want to jump in the river.
If I am writing here about everything I am unsure about, why leave emotions out? My need for explaining with logic fails me here. Almost every action I do, I can make relationships to show that it was selfishness that caused me to do that. Selfishness and self-obsession is the base in humans in my answer to almost all questions. What about the actions I can’t explain with logic. Fear can explain them to a certain extent. “I was afraid of the car so I started running.” that sort of thing. What is totally outside my grasp? Love. I know it is cliche but I don’t understand love. You must be thinking of some girl I like. No. If I like a girl, I want her to be with me. I do not love her. I “want” her. That is a common mistake people make. They confuse what they “want” with what they “love”. There is a distinction. But I love my mother. Because I do not want anything from her. I just love her. And the same from my father, my brother and some of my friends. I understand the difference between love and desire but I don’t understand love.