A Poet's Journal: February 14th, 2015
What is with the recording of a journal if it is not to look back upon it one day and see our ignorance, and to a lesser extent, find out the times that we have been most genuine. The truth is that it is difficult to like oneself in hindsight because we can see that we are merely running up against our own ego time and time again, wondering why things are this way and always asking what if. Our whole sense of individuality is based on the thought that we are different, that we suffer more, are happier, more discerning, always the better or worse of everybody else; but if it comes to us as such, if we must convince ourselves that the materiality of our thoughts is the only way to end our troubles, then that means that we are lacking something either way, that we are ignorant of whom exactly we truly are and only look into ourselves to find an answer satisfying enough. It is rare indeed to find someone completely hidden, whose own words do not lean upon him for support, who is present, but none can lay a finger on him--perhaps this is the idea behind knowing oneself.
Douglas Thornton
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