Restlessness

It was "the beginning" that was the drug. That feeling of newness and magic of being able to be or go anywhere you want. An evolution that I still didn't understand the exit signal, the escape.

These letters are born for those who still believe. For those who despite everything are sure it's possible. For all those who keep searching, door after door.

For those who know life can be hard, difficult, but despite everything are still here. Under a wonderful sky made of possibilities waiting to be seized.

But it wasn't true. I hadn't chosen any of it. I had only inherited it, piece by piece, without ever stopping to ask: do I still need this? Does it make me better? Does it take me where I want to go?

And this is biology. The body is programmed to save energy and push away pain. In winter blood moves away from hands and feet and flows toward the heart. If you lose your hands you still live, if you lose your heart you don't. It's the same mechanism that keeps you on the couch when you should get your ass up.

My brain was screaming: stay. It's easier. You have a secure salary. You'll build your thing calmly, in your free time.

And every time I got there, happiness lasted three days. Then the emptiness returned. Then the hunger returned. Then that feeling in your chest returned, telling you "it's not enough, it's still not enough."

Doctors won't make you happier. Nutritionists won't make you thinner. Teachers won't make you smarter. Gurus won't make you calmer. Mentors won't make you richer. Personal trainers won't make you fitter.

I call it, for as long as I can remember, restlessness.

August 3, 2021 — "Why is there this sense of restlessness inside me? Why do I keep looking for something I don't even know?"

This is monkey mind's real game. Keeping you agitated on the surface, so you never go down to see who's underneath.