Frustrations

I fucking love Philosophy.

It is one of those subjects you can talk about forever and never get bored with. And when you talk about it, you're simultaneously right and wrong.

The big problem I run into, by and large, is the contradictions. Those oh, so lovely flaws in one's argument that somehow spawn another school of thought.

Or the flaw could be in me. Perhaps I've invested too much of myself in the idea of philosophy. I keep expecting it to resonate and turn into some form of belief. But now I'm struggling to make up my mind about what is real.

I have all these wonderful options: Dualism, nondualism, materialism, idealism, existentialism, blah-blahism, and so on. The more I ponder each philosophy, the more frustrated I become with this existence. It's a fucking curse: having awareness and some insatiable desire for more. It's not going to end. I will never be content with my answers.

So here I am, conflicted with the reduction of human existence to words and trying to extract some meaning and gravity from it.

Everything I think I have in my life is subject to snapping out of existence. Possessing things in the first place is illusory yet I can't let go of them. I get an overwhelming sense of fulfillment from the friendships I forge, and sometimes I believe I live for that social interaction. Then other times I remember that I am reducible to some body and mind that is predisposed to be a certain way, and nothing seems to matter. Do I have free will?

Don't get me wrong, I am not depressed. In fact, I'm happier than I've ever been. So is that my purpose-- to be happy? I don't want to get carried away with the notion of a greater good or some other grandiose nonsense. But I just want to know why anything is significant!

Life's good.

And this is why I will never get bored exploring my awareness and trying to connect the dots.