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[nonbeing]

One of my greatest personal fears has come true - has been true for a long time. I have come to regard all the interesting, creative, spiritual and philosophical musings of my past self, many of which were recorded in this very journal, as childish pipe-dreams and meaningless druggie drivel.

But maybe I don't feel this way. I can't tell. I can't

Comments

[vexed_vitality]

You don't know me, but I added you ages ago and read your stuff back when you posted more regularly. To be honest, I had forgotten you even existed (a convenience evidently denied to you yourself), but when I saw this post I went, "Ah, that dude! I remember him!" Anyway, I strongly identify with that first paragraph, and to a lesser extent with the rest. At 28, I've been thinking a lot about why and how the magic and immediacy and vivid emotion I experienced in life even just a few years ago, when things were far more turbulent and objectively pretty bad, as well as further back, seem so lost and irretrievable now. It's salient for me to note that I too used drugs, often heavily, for years, though I've been drug and alcohol-free for close to five years now. I still sometimes feel that drugs had a lot to do with that intensity of experience, but they can't be the whole story. (I'm not advocating anything particular about drugs one way or another, just relating

[farasche]

“We must always change, renew, rejuvenate ourselves; otherwise, we harden.” Goethe