Moral Dilemmas
I cant tell you how it feels to be me, but I will try!
Preston Blair, “Bunker Hill,” 1938, watercolor on paper, 22 x 29 in. Hilbert Museum of California Art.
It’s 19th June, 2025. You are not seventeen anymore, but you keep forgetting that. When the reality hits, you find yourself standing in the middle of an old, forgotten train station, caught between two paper towns.
On one side lies the town where you think you belong. It’s familiar, orderly, with well-lit streets where the expectations of others hang like signboards at every corner, telling you where to go, how to be. It’s safe there. Predictable. You could walk those streets blindfolded and never stumble.
But on the other side is the town of Otherness (or it is?). It’s a strange, crooked place where the streets wind into themselves, the houses lean like they are listening, and nothing is as it seems. No one waits there with instructions. You’d be utterly alone, but free in a way that might sometimes frighten you.
I painted this. I was inspired by an artist whose name I have insincerely forgotten and I am quite ashamed of that ( do let me know if you find out).
You are on the platform almost everyday, trains arriving and departing without you. You can’t decide to board either one. You stay, trapped in this space plagued by the same questions:
'Should I belong? Or should I risk strangeness that comes with knowing myself?'
This is how I live, burdened by impossible choices I force myself to make. Outwardly, I manage to do my social duties. In fact, people even know me for my liveliness (I do feel extraordinarily lively, just not in the way you’d think). You can’t guess at this war in my mind. This level of masking, its honestly impressive to me, how I manage to keep it together.
At the end day, what grounds me, is the reminder that as creatures with the most advanced brain on this planet, it is only natural to wrestle with such thoughts. And maybe, if I try just a little harder, I might even find some answers (but I wouldn’t count on it).
The Weight of Love
Can you love something yet want to be free from it ?
There is a peculiar kind of suffering (perhaps one of your limitations leading to it) no one warns you about: of loving deeply while being unable to act on it.
I sit in my room, watching the phone screen light up time to time, with the names of friends & family, messages unread, birthdays unspoken for. I love them all. Truly. I think of them often, at odd hours even, in quiet & loud moments, imagining what I would say, the warmth I would give if only my mind would let me move.
I remain still. The messages unwritten, the calls unsent. It is not neglect, but no explanation can make sense of the torment of this contradiction without sounding like an excuse.
And so the love turns into a secret burden. Because loving includes giving too, and I mostly can’t, even when I try.
So then I end up wanting to free myself, to stop being reminded of my limitations. I shamefully watch the bonds fade, until they no longer pull at me. I eventually feel light & free, but SO empty and lonely.
To the world, it mostly seems careless, forgetful, distant, unloving.
But inside, I am just so full of unsent love, sincere apologies and grief.
When it is like this, you end up wondering if this is selfishness? Or is the only mercy you can offer yourself? Will I ever be able to think beyond myself?
I am fond of objects, they are easier. Ceramics and stationary. A stone on the table. A book. A painting. They ask for nothing. They cannot be disappointed. I collect so many of them and keep them near and dear to compensate.
I don’t want your sympathy though, because I am only being my version of a human I am capable of being.
But here’s the thing~
I don’t hold it against you, for being your version of human. For expecting things I struggle to give. For feeling disappointed in me. For being hurt by me while I am trying to figure it all out myself.
For also not thinking beyond yourself so much.
So... can you not hold it against me, too? :)
Do I like it Hard or Soft?
Here’s an unusual dilemma, which I’ve managed to solve, by the way:
There was a time when this was a serious internal conflict because I used to eat chips all the time. I couldn’t decide whether I liked them crispy or soft and soggy.
But after much thought (and tasting), I’ve finally accepted that I like them soft and soggy. Which means (and here’s the new development), I now have to meal prep my chips. I make a tiny cut in the packet and leave it open for a while, just until they soften perfectly. Then I enjoy them. YUM?
I'm also a big fan of soggy fries. I only order McD fires (they be beautifully soft and soggy) OR cheesy fries (if I’m ordering from elsewhere), not for the cheese, but because the cheese makes the fries perfectly soggy. Nothing tastes better.
Listen, I can totally see you reacting the way you are right now, thru the screen! There’s no need for that ok? It’s not my fault I have very specific needs.
Until next time,
If you saw typos, plis pretend that you did not.