I went to the woods...

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms...
Henry David Thoreau

Undecim

It seems that when we are faced with feelings of despair we often find ourselves asking "What happened to me?", yet fail to look beyond and wonder "Who was I in the first place?". It is only when we are wondering what it was that happened to us to make things turn out the way they did that we suddenly realise that we never actually knew ourselves in the first place. Then, before we are even aware of it, we are entering a world of adulthood whereby we are forced to make decisions that impact our futures so profoundly, yet do not have sufficient knowledge of ourselves to make such informed decisions. How can we possibly be expected to choose a career based on what we enjoy when this is the very question that undermines our existence? It seems to be that the simplest questions are the hardest to answer: what do I really love? Sport, cooking, friends, nature, learning... these are admirable recreations, but what is it that draws the distinction between pastimes and passions? Some things feel like they will never get old or lose their novelity - some things feel like they are meant to be forever. So when did these things stop being fun? When did analysis and criticism become the centre of these activities, above pure enjoyment. Has the world not turned on its head when the one thing that once made you smile is now the thing that tears everything else to pieces? When the tears of laughter and joy became tears of genuine despair, frustration and hopelessness? Although I don't believe that our sole purpose in life is as frivolous as to simply 'have fun', I do believe that being happy and helping others to be happy does comprise a significant part of our existence. But if we are as self-ignorant as to not even know our true passions - what hope is there for us then?

Decem

Life is really just one big round circle. A vicious cycle, whereby things only get worse until you cannot cope, then get better until you are convinced that they will be okay, and then it lures you back until you spiral back to where you began. The displacement equals zero. I cannot decide whether to hope is to live, or whether hope is simply the game of the fool. I feel like I am just running continuously into a brick wall, trying without success until I no longer have the energy to keep trying. Fatigue sweeps over me like disease and I feel like I am losing an eternal battle. Maybe once I believed that sleep cures all things, but I am rapidly losing confidence in the ability of sleep to arrest this perpetual cycle of life.

Novem

Talk's cheap. You could have all the good intentions in the world, but what does it matter if they eventuate to nothing? I think we get very caught up in everything that should or could be, but sometimes forget to put in the effort to make these dreams become realities. I feel like every day of my life serves to exemplify this ideal. Sometimes I wonder, how many of us will ever truly reach our potential? And how many of us will look back in anger and regret realising that we never put in the effort to make the most of ourselves? Sometimes it feels like I am putting too much trust in hoping things will be okay, rather than doing something to ensure that they will be. When and why did I stop trying? Caring? It may seem like some sort of consolation to tell yourself that you could achieve great things, but what's point if you can't put it into action? An ENTER score, a premiership, a fundraiser or some brilliant breakthrough. If you say you can, why don't you just do it? Talk's cheap until you put it into action.

Octo

In the broad spectrum of human emotion, nothing is as destructive as the emotion of jealousy. Consider anger and upset; these emotions, although undesireable, are not maladaptive. There is no harm in visiting that dark place every now and again or throwing a fist through the air or into a pillow - not only are these normal human experiences, but they are fundamental to our development and essential to being human. Carl Jung once stated, "Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness; the word 'happy' would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness". However, unlike the emotions of anger and sadness, jealousy serves no purpose. Jealousy is no more adaptive or constructive than it is logical; it renders no positive outcomes and is built upon no rational foundation, serving only to deplete our spirits and crush our self-esteem. Wanting what someone else has only makes us more dissatisfied with what we already possess, and brings us no closer to attaining whatever that magical object or characteristic is. Jealousy undermines everything that we already are, ignoring all the things that make us special and unique; the eyes of jealousy make us blind to ourselves. We cannot possess that which belongs to other people, so why wish to be in someone else's shoes, own someone else's possessions or attain someone elses gifts? And what's to say they don't envy something that you have? We were not made to be someone else, and we cannot be someone else; there is no logic that supports this distressing emotion. In the end, all we can do is be the best version of us that we can possibly be.

Septem

We don't have to look further than literature, film and everyday life to realise the potential of a mask to unleash the inner human spirit and empower those that behold it. Romeo Montague dons a mask at the Capulet's masquerade ball, which ultimately leads him to the love of his life. Batman adorns the mask of a bat to instill fear in the enemy and preserve his identity while protecting society. The Wesley lion's mask allows the person hiding behind it to act as jovial as they wish without having judgement passed upon them. Masks have the power to release everything that we would otherwise be too scared or embarrassed to reveal; however, when our identity is concealed, our dignity is preserved. But what happens if a mask serves not to reveal the inner human spirit, but instead hide it? What happens when exactly who we are at the very core of our being is hidden away from even those that we love most, and all that remains to be seen is a superficial mask by which one can be judged? If this mask hides your tears, your flaws, your weaknesses and your pain, why are you wearing it? To protect yourself or to protect other people? A mask of perfection does not play a beneficial role in the long run, but merely becomes a default by which other people judge you; it becomes your reputation. However, the fact that people pass a judgement based on perfection no longer strengthens or lifts you, but only makes you feel more like people don't understand. The mask becomes a barrier between you and those people that should be able to empathise the most, and then only serves to make you feel more alone. But no one can wear a mask forever; as time passes, the mask breaks down - whether by choice or inevitably by the crumbling base upon which it is built. People begin to realise that you aren't that perfect, things aren't so easy, and you aren't really that much of an inspiration. It frightens you, because people become closer to seeing the truth, but by this stage, not even you know what the truth is. Mask or no mask, it doesn't matter anymore; I have lost my true identity.

Sex

Things don't actually get worse. We just grow up. And as we grow up we see that the world, in many ways, is not quite as beautiful or simple as we'd always pictured it. Not everything is about grades or impressions anymore; there seems to be things of greater importance than getting your maths homework done, or even getting a phenomenal ENTER score. Where everything seems black sometimes, perhaps it isn't black at all - perhaps, instead, it is merely an illusion created by the confusion of trying to comprehend all the things that were, that are and that could be. Trying to find our place in this world. But when it all becomes too much suddenly we are blind and can no longer see anything at all because of this overload of inarticulate jibberish. At the age of 17 the world we live in is still that of a child; we are still in the same routine that we were 12 years ago... wake up, go to school, go home, do homework, watch tv, sleep. Sure there may be some minor alterations along the way: learning music, playing sport, joining debating, playing sport, seeing friends and playing more sport. But even then, the repetition of a sport that you have been playing since the age of 9 hardly seems like progress from a child's world to that of an adult - perhaps that is the distinction between passions and simple pass-times though. We begin to ask questions that stretch beyond anything we can learn in school, and suddenly school becomes something that doesn't extend us, but limits us. We are yearning to break free of this perpetual routine, yet we cannot. We have to wait, and in the meantime, enjoy what it means to be 17. If we get too caught up in problems and questions that we do not yet possess the skills or tools to answer, then ultimately we are throwing away some of our most precious years; years that we will never get back. So why do it? I wonder that every day.

Life isn't all hehe haha.

When we lost our habitual positive attitude and juvenile enthusiasm, we didn't really lose them, we just moved above and beyond them. One day, however, on the journey to answering all these questions, it will come back.

Quinque

I don't know if I can write this like all my other notes. There is no desire for it to be perfect or even good. I have not the energy to craft words in creative sentences or poetic resonations. This is raw; straight from my heart and from my mind. When I play netball it only ever seems that you are able to give one hundred percent when your team is down or you are reaching the dying seconds of the game. How relatable this is to life, that it isn't until the end is near and real that we truly appreciate its beauty; that we try our best to make the most of it. Of course it isn't fair to make a generalisation - there lives a significant population that adopt a carefree and vital attitude. What hurts the most is to see these people diagnosed with terminal illness, because honestly, they already know how to live. They live every day as if it was their last anyway. These are not the people that need to be reminded or subjected to this reality. I do not naively wish such misfortune upon myself, but perhaps what I do hope for is some sort of slap in the face to say that this won't last forever. Life won't last forever. And being 17 certainly won't last forever. You only get one shot at a lot of things and it almost seems like there is pressure to enjoy everything while it lasts. So perhaps it is not really that suprising that a sense of guilt is evoked when you don't. So often we are reminded to "seize the day" and "live as if you'll die tomorrow", only to feel dejected once you realise that you aren't. I love these inspirational quotes, but sometimes I feel I am only using these to fill a gap that shouldn't be there; like I can't live and breathe such ideas myself, so I have to look to other people for this sort of attitude. As long as I depend on others to tell me to live life to the fullest, I cannot be an inspiration; to myself, to anyone. I utter the words, but it is not until I can devote my existence to them that they mean anything: Carpe diem.

Quattuor

Do you ever feel that anything and everything that you do is wrong? That every decision that you have ever made in the entirety of your existance has been the wrong one? Our lives are governed by action - without action we would lack the sentiment of achievement, the presence of vitality and the potential for change. Action plays a crucial role in our ability to function in society, and without it we simply become languid creatures living a vacuous existence. Avolition is defined as "an inability to initiate and persist in goal-directed activities" and "a psychological state characterized by general lack of desire, drive, or motivation". This absence of action and desire is also a common symptom for schizophrenics, so would it then not be logical to assume that action is not just a driving force, but a necessity for mental stability? This is where logic seems to fail us, because action is also the cornerstone of contempt, anger and hurt. Action encompasses a whole range of sentiments, from an "act of betrayal" to an "act of love". It is the actions of others that so often inflict emotional pain upon us, and the actions of ourselves that seem so capable of hurting others. And the worst thing is, the harder you try, the harder you fall. There seems to be an existence of "right" action and "wrong" action, and when we choose the wrong action the ramifications aren't just for us, but everyone around us. If we don't consider the implications of the way we act, we ultimately risk losing everything that is important to us. If we consider that a lack of action is considered unhealthy, why is it that action so often seems more detrimental than doing nothing at all?

Tres

We seem to have a habit of putting up barriers that blind us from all the beauty in the world. Whether it be the screen of a camera, a pair of sunglasses or the warped lense or misperception from which many people seem to suffer, it feels like we are continually hindering our vision and missing out on what is really there. It isn't until we take these things away, until our eyes are watering with the wind and our noses are numb with the cold, that we can really see what is lying in front of our eyes. The beauty is always there, it is simply a matter of breaking down the barriers that so often impede it's visibility.

Duo

Why do we make to do lists? I, myself, am an organiser. If you know me, you cannot deny it. To do lists seem to be a coherent way of organising things that need to be done, things that should be done, and things that you want to do. Unfortunately it often feels that these lists lack the latter. People like me seem to base their lives on organisation, efficiency and accomplishment. A tick in the box yields a feeling of satisfaction and the achievement of goals is always accompanied by self-fulfillment. But is it possible that we place too much emphasis on goals and directions? That we fixate our focus too rigidly on the "what's" in life, rather than the "how's"? That is, what we do, rather than how we go about doing it? No one wants to reach the age of forty and realise they have wasted half their life, but sadly it happens. So instead, we make plans for ourselves, set ourselves goals, and make lists of things we want to do before we die. Essentially, however, is this not just another to do list? Another way of organising our lives so that we get things done? Of course it is. And there is nothing wrong with getting things done. But when our enjoyment is derived from ticking something off this "to do" list, rather than the thing itself, ultimately we are just shifting our focus from the "how" to the "what". We don't lose ourselves in the moment, we use the moment to create the self-satisfaction of ticking that box. Emotion becomes detached, and we, once again, enter this vicious lifestyle of existing, rather than living. It sometimes seems that we are so focussed on what we want to do in life, rather than how we do it, why we do it, and the people we meet along the way. If, like me, your life seems to be defined by ticking boxes, then simply tick this one.

Live.

Now go and enjoy yourself.

Unus

Once we open our eyes, the twisted priorities by which society compels us suddenly come into clearer view. A focus on productivity, rather than quality; academic achievement, rather than loving relationships; planning, rather than spontaneity; the state of our bodies, rather than our minds; destinations, rather than journeys; material possession, rather than sharing; selfishness, rather than compassion. Everything just merges into one as we continue to go through the motions and become mindless, robotic creatures that act without reason or conviction, but rather, are simply conforming to the values of an increasingly desolate world. We are governed by the demand society puts on these things until we reach the point where we lose sight of the things that really matter. Perhaps sometimes we just need to step back and think: what is really important to us?