Investiture

It is bleak and chilly. I am shivering but the cold is strangely comforting, so I shall not alter the temperature. Dad is snoring outside. I think this is my cue to fall asleep, and perhaps never wake up.

But my concscience is telling me I'm debted to document this as soon as I can. It's a little reminder of how this is actually very insignificant to me.

Synergy: creation of a whole greater than the sum of it's parts — three councils, one family.

in·ves·ti·ture   [ɪnˈvɛstɪtʃə]

n.

1. The act or formal ceremony of conferring the authority and symbols of a high office.

2. An adornment or cover.

It happened on 25th April, Wednesday. Truthfully, I don't feel worthy of investment. I am fully aware of my emotional disengagement, which of course is largely inappropriate. I steer clear of all unnecessary commitment and (plan to) feebly attempt to get by floating around for the next year in office. But why am I like this? I didn't use to be so. I was never so estranged from activities outside of curriculum, I didn't use to distance myself. In Year 1 I placed a fence, unintentionally, but it started to wear down with the weather and now I find an aching need to replace it with a wall. The enjoyment and happiness has been lost. Even writing about this is hard. I understand my post is very vague. My sentences are short and uninformative. I can hardly put my thoughts together, I think it's because I lack feelings for this. But I'm hoping something sparks and purges me of my writing dysfunction soon. I want to be able to remember having good times while I'm still in this, but it's difficult. It is probably good I know concretely where my heart is, in spite of the distinctive stratums it has created.

I felt mechanical and 'manufactured' throughout the whole event. Mechanical because my body took over my mind, I didn't have to think about what to do next. I was working on muscle memory that came from the many dry-runs we were put through. The mannerism of the procedure was dogmatic and seemingly 'forced'. The thing about formal events is that there is nothing spontaneous or natural. We all know; rehearse, staged, act. The lines we were made to conform to resembled a manufacturing line in my head. We are the mass-produced goods in lean production. Multi high-valued skills. Hahah the references I make, really. I am merely touching on the surface of things. I feel incapable of reaching anywhere deeper. There is nothing real in this life.

There were hugs and exclamations towards the end but I felt nothing for those.
I worry about my unfeelingness sometimes.
I don't think I'm cut out for serving.
I don't know what I'm doing here.

It seems like I am increasingly retreating inwards deeper into myself. The wall may have gone up far too high now.