I remember a time when I was compassionate. I remember when the death of someone close to me made me think about life and everything, and for a time (during and after the grief process) life itself was beautiful. I saw the inherent beauty in life's little things. I cared how my actions and words affected others. I philosophized. I had great deep meaningful conversations with people. I FELT. I KNEW. I was in touch with every part of myself and, I felt, with the whole world. Life seemed very simple. I still struggled with materialism, but I was very poor at the time, and simplicity was good for me. The absence of life's distractions allowed me the time to be at peace.
That version of me isn't around anymore. I am not strong enough to choose simplicity over materialism. I am not disciplined enough to choose meditation over distraction. I no longer feel warm and fuzzy or in touch with the world or anything else like that. I've become cold and calloused and my life revolves around those things which distract me from what is probably truly important. And it's not like I've had to endure all sorts of unfair hardship or abuse or anything, the world didn't make me cold. I don't know what caused it. I don't know why I'm defensive and uncaring. I don't know why I don't want to talk anymore. I get grumpy too easily. I'm easily irritated. (emotionally unstable?) I'm controlling and stingy and not affectionate.
confused