Sep 04 2011 ∞
“ For months now I’ve been thinking about my illness of thinking too much, and I’ve established with complete certainty the correlation between my unhappiness and the incontinence of my mind. Probing and pondering and over analyzing have never given me any advantages; they’ve only played against me. The process of thought is not a natural one, it hurts; it’s as if I were uncovering pieces of broken glass and lengths of barbed wire in the air. I can’t seem to stop my brain or to slow it down. I feel like a train, a big old steam train hurtling along the tracks, a train that will never be able to stop because the fuel that makes it so dizzyingly powerful, the coal, is the whole world. Everything I see, feel, and hear throws itself into the furnace of my mind, fires it up and makes it charge on full steam ahead. Probing and pondering and overanalyzing is a kind of social suicide because it means you can no longer take part in this life without inadvertently feeling both like a bird of prey and a vulture picking apart everything it sees. We ty to understand something, more often than not we kill it, and now I can feel the dangers of this encroaching on me: cynicism, bitterness, and infinite sadness. You very quickly become good at being unlucky and unhappy. It’s impossible to live if you’re too aware, too thoughtful.
— Martin Page - How I became stupid