What is it that I want to be? What is it that I am?
What I am and what I would like to be are immediately very different. The ‘ideal’ version of me is entirely fictional, not achievable, and alien to my current self. My current self is hard to understand, always changing, and only half under my control (and less than half of that control is conscious!).
I must elaborate on what it is I want to be. I desire strength, like all others. Not physical strength (though I do desire it), but strength of will. The willpower to discipline myself. The strength of my mind. Mastery over my desires and impulses, which gives me more control over the world than even the most capable athlete. I want to be that stoic man on a mountain, able to shrug off the cold, surviving with only what is necessary, completely free from societies and cultures. To shrug off the winter, those harsh winter blues, the draining sadness. To be able to adapt to any world, and only rely on myself and not any sort of medications or consolations. I wouldn’t be subject to the world, only to myself.
What I am, is much more realistic. I am a physical machine slogging through the muck, getting my cogs clogged with wire and oil from the world around me. It is necessary, though. I must pull the wires, let the oil clear my rust. The wires need pulling, the oil needs a use. I know that my parts, the nuts and bolts and springs and tubes, are always changing paths and functions (to an extent). The parts don’t sync perfectly, because I am not a perfect machine. I require maintenance. To believe I, or anyone else, can be so independent is ridiculous. No machine repairs itself fully without the help of a handyman. No person can go on without the nourishment of the mind.
I have been manufactured in a strange place. A baby, like every newly invented machine, should go through a stress test. How much weight does it take? Every moment the body is reinvented, and it must go through that new stress test. The weights are the challenges of the environment around the body. The body constantly improves, scarring itself like tempering a metal, learning to resist burns and diseases. The machine reaches adulthood, but my machine doesn’t feel ready. It feels incomplete, wired a little sloppily, rusted in places underused. My body wasn’t invented and reinvented under the conditions and stresses that my genetic schematics anticipated. Perhaps to make up for this lack of external pressures, I have tried to make do with a half-formed masochism, attempted to simulate the external forces, fight myself.
A machine cannot stress test itself. I cannot effectively create the experiences that I should have had so many years ago. Some bodies are able to get by without this, but I am unable. What was it that I needed? What causes me to bring about this misguided self-harm? School was not the correct stress test for my body. I don’t know how to go on alone, my body needs the external aids in order to continue its existence.
I need new parts, or rather, new experiences. I need to utilize the underdeveloped parts of myself, what few schools or parents think to test. If I want to even come close to what I want to be, I have to run experiments, I have to form habits, I have to commit to exercises, I need an engineer.
If any engineers are reading, please help! I know I can do it, but some days I feel like I cannot do it alone! Make me a better body, and I will make yours better too!