It seems as though every time I sit down and place my fingers on this keyboard, all the thoughts that were previously settling in my head become so frightened by the prospect of being expressed that they scare themselves back into a frenzied cloud, like so many birds on the beach. Whatever important thing I had to say has completely eluded me, making this yet another post almost completely devoid of meaning.
A bit has come back to me. Irony?
Earlier, it dawned on my for the umpteenth time that I cannot pretend to really know anything. Especially someone as young as myself, having existed for a mere eighteen years, cannot expect to really understand anything in the world at all. Those older than myself generally have more valid insight, but even they do not really understand much of anything. The world changes too frequently to really draw any solid conclusions; our being is too infinite and incapable of understanding itself to actually grasp anything at all. And so the greatest truths of our history have come from men and women who observe the nature of man and our repeated behaviors. But there is such a small collection of predictable human traits that most of what we can solidly deduce about the human race has already been voiced.
And on a general scale, we are too busy in our own times and spheres of being to understand those few truths of human existence and apply them.
Of course, just because a thing is known does not make it manifest. For most truths of human existence go completely unrealized. And even when we have learned something about ourselves, we quickly forget our motivation and reason for change.
And so it is with my own life. I changed, putting faith in Christ instead of the world, and it was apparent to me the reason for my change. For a while, anyway. Now all I can do is recite the words in my head that used to spark such passion in me, only to find that the nothing in me moves. I watch sort of disembodied as I take slow, meandering steps away from Christ, following this daisy path to destruction.
The strange thing is, I know none of this can end well. I know I'm setting myself up for failure and defeat and rough times...but I can't seem to do anything to stop myself. I could, of course, I have the power over myself to control what I do...but it just never seems to happen.
The turning point evades me still and I'll be stuck here a while longer, I fear, before I'm able to feel the depth of my own self-destruction.