As of last night I have come to the conclusion that I understand as much about life as I did when I was five, or maybe less. On the way back from a party that was far too revealing for so many people trying to hide things I was struck by this. It was a step outside your thoughts kind of thing where I realized all the concepts that I am constantly building and trying to understand about myself are the same things that I have been trying to figure out as far back as I can remember only with a different face. And there is no sense in writing whatever I think is the truth about me here becuase I haven't a clue what that is, and what I consider it to be is probably further off than a third person perspective. I am trapped in here all day with me so chances are I can get a little testy and overly judgemental.
A spin on Socrates in there somewhere. That all you can ever know is that you can never know. But with reasoning behind it because the act of trying to know changes everything more dramatically than is realized at the time. One step behind is as close as it can get, and that one step may as well be an infinite distance for all it's worth. So I get left with some innate need to posture, while at the same time not understanding it and being revolted by it. No wonder schizophrenics have a hard time, I can barely understand the one voice I have. It makes me want to go back to wearing oversized t-shirts and osh kosh b'gosh, and mostly being ignored by everything. At least then I could have a good time with myself and not have to consider the wants, needs, desires, or interests of anyone else. And I don't mean that in a selfish way, just that I can handle myself if need be. Like lobbing things into an abyss. I am having a great time doing it, but where the hell it is going I have no idea. Speculation and pondering doesn't get any closer to the truth of the matter.
So question and count and formulate, but you still end up at a party with a hundred people you don't know, and are not interested in what you're thinking, or thinking at all most of the time, watching a girl on a ping pong table in the front yard stomp and scream about "WHO STOLE MY KEYS!" and clutching her absolut umbilical. Which just leaves me on a damp couch in the dark grass thinking about how I don't understand women, or relationships, or people, or myself, or life at all because...and here's the good part...because it can't be understood, and that is the only understanding available. But the only way to see the bottom of the abyss is to jump, I guess.