Entropy, Oh, My Entropy

All things subject to necessity engage in a doomed struggle against entropy, and the personal scale is no exception.

It appears to me that most people, namely people without an unquiet mind, have a heap of energy to fight against entropy. For them, it seems: easy to keep their homes tidy instead of letting it collapse; easy to take themselves to appointments and other important things; easy to manage both their body and mind appropriately; easy to be a functioning human.

Why does it seem that the energy available in their struggle far exceeds mine?

I fear my arrogance. It is easier for me to say, "They are not consumed by their own mind", than it is for me to say "I am consumed by my own mind." The latter feels more appropriate.

There is probably no graceful or tactful way, that is to say I currently do not feel like doing so, to craft a paragraph that isn't self-absorbed. But here is my reality:

I look at piles of dishes, and I see what they symbolize: the failure of my fight against entropy, the weight of my past life reminding me of its echo. I watch a documentary about a woman dying with cancer, and I cry for three hours. I can't seem to just be, and I always look for connections between the physical and metaphysical.

One time, my boyfriend and I drove past a hospice care facility called "Embrace". The logo was a stylized rendering of two people hugging. I immediately told him, "I don't know why they would name a hospice care about the 'embrace of death'." He was disturbed, and in the moment I felt upset towards myself for making connections that did not exist.

I suppose the simple summary is just this: this world is too much, and I feel it in totality.

Where does energy come from to fight against entropy of the mind?

I do not know. Consciousness is a scalding blessing.