A telomere is the fraying of a gene—the very edge of the helix. My own thought, perhaps, lacks this edge, remaining closed off. While telomeres are said to be related to the changes brought by aging, my thought may be resistant to any form of change. However, this very quality might be what constitutes its incompleteness.
To allow for an “edge,” much like a telomere, is to be incomplete while simultaneously leaving room to build something new. When I take action, I am often perceived by those around me as secretive or inscrutable. At a glance, my movements seem haphazard. Yet, in hindsight, they often appear to have been meticulously planned.
This is no mere coincidence. When I am able to act, it is neither due to a lack of planning nor a penchant for secrecy. Rather, I intentionally leave behind a sense of incompleteness or “void,” much like the end of a telomere. Then, in the moment of action, I assemble those telomeric edges. This, I believe, is why my actions seem spontaneous yet planned. I have a tendency to act in a way that allows for this eventual assembly.
However, doing this consciously and systematically is nearly impossible for me. Is this a flaw, or is it a limitation that must be accepted? If it is a limitation, perhaps it cannot be helped; if it is a flaw, it should be overcome. Should I accept it and acquire a supplementary methodology, or should I strive to conquer it?
