When we’re children, there’s a certain simplicity to our thinking. We act honest to our desires. We disregard costs, efforts, alternate opportunities. We only want. We only desire. This is a purity of thought, as all impulses can be reductionally viewed as desire.
The desires of circuits, which multiply and entrench themselves as we come of age. We become dishonest. Some of the new circuits seek to inhibit us. To prevent us from wasting our efforts on hopeless dreams that can never be accomplished. It’s grotesque. Perverse. Accomplishments don’t last. We only live to perform. Quoting a saying, the journey matters more than the destination.
We lie to ourselves. Why we need accomplishments. Why we can’t enjoy a journey. We stress. Care about things that turn out useless despite all we thought we knew.
I’m doing this right now.
Maybe all desires are perverse.
No, I’ll revisit this. I’ll appreciate it. The ones I hate are the “should not” voices. The anxieties. They only seek to entrench us in local maxima. Local comforts.
They are our endogenous drug addictions. All natural. All comforting. Almost all a curse of our minds maturing.