Purpose

a prologue:

Part 1

I remember walking down to my room one night. It was dark. The entrance to my room was like a monstrous black hole, drawing me closer with its immense gravity.

Black holes are singularities that are infinitely dense with an infinite gravity that is so powerful that not even light can escape its hold. I am like light; struggling to escape the vast gravity of the darkness that is my life.

I entered my room and I flipped the light switch. The room was instantly flooded with light pouring out from the incandescent light bulb only to reveal mediocrity . Clothes and books are strewn accross the carpeted floor. The bed was unmade as always- the only constant in my life.

I remember sitting down amongst the debris. I picked up a few random objects with in my immediate vicinity. A Latin dictionary , an unwashed shirt and a denim jacket. I held each item, studied it, and put it back down . I even flipped through the pages of the Latin dictionary, and savoured the words of a civilisation long gone.

I held it close to my chest, pretending that it could hear my heart beat, my rhythmic breathing, and then I discarded on the floor like all the other essentially worthless items that inhabited my floor space.

Like these items, I felt meaningless. Who am I? What am I?

I had to remind myself: I am a man, nay, a boy, a teenager lost in his own irrevocable sense of meaninglessness. And the thoughts in my head were empty- meaningless.

As I sat there on the carpet amongst my scattered belongings, I looked for a purpose for my existence.

A god perhaps? No. there is no such thing as a god. There is no supreme creator, and if there was, it would just be a phenomenon, like everything else in the universe.

I know there is no heaven or hell. I know this because I am a bad person, but I don’t want to be bad, and surely if there were a supreme creator he would understand. Like he would understand me, he would understand everyone. No one really wants to be bad, everyone wants to be loved and approved.

Therefore no one would be in hell, so why have it?

And if no one is good or evil, what would be the need for some kind of cosmic mediator. I dispose of the deity.

There is no such thing as good or evil. Like the characters of a novel people can be portrayed either as a protagonist or an antagonist, depending on the point of view the author creates. In reality, protagonists and antagonists are interchanging, fluid, because there is no author to point out which is which. People are just people, all trying desperately to eke out an existence on the planet we call home.

We are all obsessed with continuity. It is our driving force. We as humans want to carry on in existence, continually trying to immortalise ourselves- consciously or subconsciously. We reproduce- our offspring a continuation of ourselves. We write books, we make movies.

We are continually documenting, so that there is something left of our selves once we have gone. What will happen once I have gone?

End part 1

Part 2

My father told me that the soul purpose of our existence here on earth is to worship our creator, and what ever happens in our lives happens for a reason to fit into His grand plan for us all.

This sickens me. I am sickened by the fact that I doubt my parent’s beliefs. I am sickened that they uphold them so devoutly. But I can’t help but wonder…

First of all, why would some kind of being create organisms with the soul purpose of worshiping Him. Does this mean that God is vain and self consumed? Secondly, why should I thank him for my existence, who said I wanted to be in existence in the first place? I never asked to be created! Why would a so called ‘loving father’ of a god place so many of us here on Earth to toil and stew in our own muck so that he can receive a little gratitude at the end of the day? I simply do not see the point.

Christians always seem to retort by saying that we will be rewarded in the after life. Sure that’s great, but what about every one else? If god is all powerful and all knowing then he would know who is going to hell and who isn’t anyway. This makes people’s actions redundant because essentially their fates have been predetermined.

Is it wrong of me to challenge these somewhat archaic beliefs? Or is it as Confucius said: “he who doubts nothing, knows nothing.”

Through this journal I hope to document aspects of my life and hopefully I will discover some answers to the questions that haunt me.

End prologue

I guess we’re all f****d up in the end. We’ve all had issues, and we’re all disturbed, stupid and mind f****d. It’s like Plato said: “Be kind. Everybody you encounter is engaged in a great struggle.” I know I am.

Am I?

Or was I?

I still feel so wrong, so messed up on the inside, like someone churned my insides with an electric egg beater. Its hard to imagine that more than one person could possibly feel this way. So many friends, lovers, strangers. All twisted individuals, wronged by false promises of happiness. The one thing we all feel we deserve is so often stolen from us without mercy:

Happiness.

Everything seems so banal these days. i miss being really excited about things. I miss the feeling you get the night before your birthday...eager antisipation. The only reason it seems i still wake up in the morning is the hope that the new day will be better than the last. at least it's one good reason to carry on. Actually... there are two reasons... Alex.

He confuses me. when i first met him i thought he was beautiful. I was alone in a new school, my first day. he was in my english class, and he invited me to come sit with him and his friends during recess. I was nervous. I hadn't interacted with people my own age for at least three months, and I was in a new country. i was the new kid with a funny accent. and of course there was the the constant thought nagging at the back of my mind: I'm gay... what if they can tell?

Alex started to take a liking to me, we have a lot in common. We both listen to metal, we are both intellegent and we can see eye to eye on many levels. as time progressed and his fondness for me intesified, i became more withdrawn. my infatuation started to fade. i started to find some of his qualities irksome. but he was never intolerable. then the party happened...

he got incredibly drunk, and got sick from it. he behaved like a fool, and a lot of my respect for him died that day. I now hate spending time with him, and even though i don't like to admit it i feel repulsed. being with him is like eating something extremely unpallatable. i have no idea why i feel this way given the fact that it is obvious he is attracted to me. I can tell because he always looks at me, deliberately touches me, flirts with me. Maybe its just my mind, but i am viewing this objectively.

i just don't understand it. he is so beautifull, and he likes me. why am i not attracted to him? something feels so wrong.

i wish i could feel differently

for three nights in a row i have dreamt of my dogs and South Africa.

Ek mis my honde... ek sal julle nooit vergeet nie!

I just got back from my school trip. Alex got a hair cut, and i still feel the same about him.

the movie "the holiday" played during the bus trip. the song "have yourself a merry little christmas" was part of the sound track. I remember watching "meet me in st louis" and crying when Judy Garland sang it. it was on tv a few days before we left south africa. i think it was just after New years eve when i watched it. it's strange how certain songs stick with you, immortalising pivotal moments in your life. when ever i hear the song i get stuck in melancholic daze.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,

Let your heart be light

From now on,

our troubles will be out of sight

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,

Make the Yule-tide gay,

From now on,

our troubles will be miles away.

Here we are as in olden days,

Happy golden days of yore.

Faithful friends who are dear to us

Gather near to us once more.

Through the years

We all will be together,

If the Fates allow

until then we'll have to muddle through

some how.

So have yourself a merry little christmas now.

I'm worried about my sleep patterns. i want to sleep all the time. not because im tired, but because i want to escape! My dreams are scary. they scare the CRAP out of me. but somehow, i prefer them to life right now. i'm worried that i might be slipping in to my old depression. i suppose it was stupid of me to think it would be gone forever. Depression is caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain.... i guess my period of grace is over. I'm scared to ask my mom for the meds. what will she think??

I'm so anxious about tomorrow. i haven't done any prep for my exams. it loos like i will be an insomniac for yet another night. why are sundays always the hardest?

I feel like I’m spiralling into disillusionment. I want to believe that everything is fine, but it seems that reality has the upper hand once again. I now remember why I used drugs. I’m weak. I need a crutch to help me face the world. I feel that I frequently need to remind my self why I need to wake up in the morning.

Why do I wake up in the mornings, when I feel that all hope is lost? Because logic reminds me that change will be the only constant in my life, and perhaps, if I’m lucky, it could turn my life around today.

I wake up every morning in the hope that this day, will be better than the last.

I had the strangest dream last night. I dreamt that i was doing a sketch of an african woman. As i did the sketch i had a flash back. I remembered my late maid servant from when we still lived in Africa. I dreamt that she was leaving, walking towards the front gate because she had finished her work day. As she left i remember running towards her, begging her not to go. I held on to her, and hugged her tightly. I wept and wept. i buried my face in her bosom and found her breast. This gesture wasn't sexual at all... in actuality it was something organic, maternal- like a mother nursing her infant. She said something to me, but her words were incomprehensible. it was most likely in her native tongue... but her voice was so clear. I woke up crying.

This dream is loaded with symbolism. I have no idea what it means, maybe it's my latent grief making an apearance in my subconsious. my maid died of AIDS at the end of last year. I never said good bye. Even though she was my family's employee, some part of me felt like she was part of the family. like a second mother.

i wish i had appreciated her more while she was still a live.

Im wondering whether i should tell rachel im gay. I'm scared but i feel strangely obligated.

Today i learnt that part of being an adult is to NOT make judgements about things you know nothing about. Assumptions are wrong.

I have that empty feeling again. I stood on the balcony of the apartment building i'm staying at, looking at the city below. It was cold and all i could think about was the emptyness. I felt scared... i feel scared. I don't know where my life is going. Im also scared because i feel like jumping. splat. who cares... there he goes. who was he? nobody knows,. why did he jump? he was lost. poor little homo. we hardly new ye.

I took my old anti-depressants from the medicine cabinet and put them in my room, without telling my mom. im planning on taking them again... i just don't want my parents to know that i'm depressed again.

I couldn't sleep last night. All i could think about was stitching up broken flesh, skin, organs. Today i seriously considered becoming a surgeon, i could if i really wanted to. I am a capable student, my teachers always said i was a great biologist and chemist. I like the idea of fixing people.

Mom is a doctor, and i don't want to end up like her. thats the end of that dream.

Its 12:52 AM in the morning, i just spent 2 hours writing a 1000 word exposition that i should have started 3 weeks ago and it's due tomorrow plus i've got school in the morning...but you know what, i don't care! I just looked in the mirror, and realized that i was happy to see myself standing there, alive. today may be a good day.

I had a pleasant saturday morning. i went to school to chat to my art teacher about my art assignment. I've been neglecting my art recently, and i think Ms H rekindled that old flame within me. She is a brilliant woman, and i really look up to her. She has my utmost respect. If she weren't my teacher, we would've been friends today i rediscovered that which eludes me so often...my purpose. I'm glad i made this journal. everytime i feel that i might be losing grip on my life, i will look back on this and remember that there will always be something out there for me to hold on to.

Today i ran and ran and i ran until my feet hurt, and my body ached and my lungs couldn't breathe.

will i ever be happy again?

I'm so scared right now. The future is looming right in front of me and i have no idea what to do. I have no idea where my life is taking me. Dad said we have to go back to south africa. i dont know if i really want to go back, although i do miss it terribly. I miss my old friends, the people i got to know... but the truth is, there is nothing left for me in that country. i hope that everything will be OK.

My mother's godmother passed away last night. I wasn't particularly close to her, but she was a presence in my life none the less, and i felt a sense of grief. She was one of the strong women in my mother's life that had gotten her to where she is today: a successful doctor.

It saddens me that she was all alone when she died. She has no children, no husband... nothing. All she had was us... my family. We visited her every once in a while at her little apartment, that she could hardly afford. She had lost everything;The company she worked for went bankrupt and she was forced to retire with no pension. Of course my parents supported her where they could, but none of us could fill the void that a real family could.

We said goodbye to her before we moved to australia six months ago. She understood why we had to leave, and also new that we might never meet again. It was a bitter moment. We all new that her health was deteriorating. i at least hoped that we would be able to attend her funeral... I can only wonder who would turn up... we were her people, i don't think that there are any other's left.

The things that i will remember about her: Her wisdom. Her wit. Her chuckle. The wrinkels on her face that told her story. Her love for my mother. Her distant, yet meaningful presence in my life.

Oupa is vandag oorlede.

i'm such a hypocrite