It's been a long time since I've written. I feel like I'm wandering between worlds right now, one that's normal... apathetic... and one that's full of sadness, guilt, and regret. I hate that word: regret. Maybe this is why the worlds are becoming blurred, the apathetic one is that of my own creation as a way to protect myself from that word. The human mind is such a powerful thing and free will a potential curse. When one has the ability to do what one pleases, one most always messes up.
Silently part of me is shrugging, saying "it happens" and the other part is saying "why'd you let it happen?". This delves into a self-discussion that is borderline narcissistic... to be so involved with one's self. Just that alone adds a new world, one of anger. These worlds envelope me, invite me in, share coffee and tell me their tales. I already know their stories, they're the same stories that have been repeating for hours. As these stories are told I try to make sense of everything that happened and most importantly why it happened. Slipping into these worlds I feel that which I desire and want slowly slip away. I feel new institutions coming on, perhaps more worlds to join the tea party, but is that what I want? I see the vision of desire for the future, potentially only weeks away... these worlds tell me I won't have that vision, it won't be real. They tell me nothing is real because reality is faded, burned away into the recesses of memory. What are the fundamental necessities for a good, happy life?
Perhaps the future won't be as I see, perhaps the lines between what I should do and what I want to do cross and meet up, only time will tell. At some stages I see myself in the woods, there's a shack that I live in all alone. My beard touches my stomach and my hair even lower, now and again I walk a good ways. On these walks I walk with a limp but I have a cane to steady myself...
It's been a long time since I've written. I feel like I'm wandering between worlds right now, one that's normal... apathetic... and one that's full of sadness, guilt, and regret. I hate that word: regret. Maybe this is why the worlds are becoming blurred, the apathetic one is that of my own creation as a way to protect myself from that word. The human mind is such a powerful thing and free will a potential curse. When one has the ability to do what one pleases, one most always messes up.
Silently part of me is shrugging, saying "it happens" and the other part is saying "why'd you let it happen?". This delves into a self-discussion that is borderline narcissistic... to be so involved with one's self. Just that alone adds a new world, one of anger. These worlds envelope me, invite me in, share coffee and tell me their tales. I already know their stories, they're the same stories that have been repeating for hours. As these stories are told I try to make sense of everything that happened and most importantly why it happened. Slipping into these worlds I feel that which I desire and want slowly slip away. I feel new institutions coming on, perhaps more worlds to join the tea party, but is that what I want? I see the vision of desire for the future, potentially only weeks away... these worlds tell me I won't have that vision, it won't be real. They tell me nothing is real because reality is faded, burned away into the recesses of memory. What are the fundamental necessities for a good, happy life?
Perhaps the future won't be as I see, perhaps the lines between what I should do and what I want to do cross and meet up, only time will tell. At some stages I see myself in the woods, there's a shack that I live in all alone. My beard touches my stomach and my hair even lower, now and again I walk a good ways. On these walks I walk with a limp but I have a cane to steady myself... slowly I make my way to a small village. These excursions happen about once a month. I don't talk to a single person while in the village, nobody knows who I am, what I do, or anything about me. Eventually I become invisible to them, they know my routine and so I just fade into the image of the buildings and various items strewn about the village. Is that my fate?
The threat of invisibility seems daunting yet joyous. I feel the need to be with people... to connect. I imagine the reasoning stems from having people present in the world. If I were invisible in an invisible society, perhaps the connection wouldn't be needed nor desired. Perhaps the only loneliness I experience is created simply by having people existing around me. People walking, talking, dancing, loving, kissing, hugging, laughing, crying... people are everywhere. Does this create loneliness? A feeling of having no one to walk with, talk with, dance with, love with, kiss with, hug with, laugh with, or cry with? And yet I have some of those things... even random strangers, we walk on the same sidewalk at the same time, does this not constitute itself as "walking together?"
My mind is frazzled, the light switch is off. Brilliant shocks of electricity much like a Tesla coil spirals around inside my head. Perhaps the human brain was the grand inspiration for the Tesla coil, they both operate very similarly. I like watching the electricity shoot from segment to segment and engage in a seemingly chaotic premarital consummation.
I want that which I desire and desire that which I want... am I worth so much as to obtain that? I believe nothing is real. I fear I may end up that invisible man...
Silently part of me is shrugging, saying "it happens" and the other part is saying "why'd you let it happen?". This delves into a self-discussion that is borderline narcissistic... to be so involved with one's self. Just that alone adds a new world, one of anger. These worlds envelope me, invite me in, share coffee and tell me their tales. I already know their stories, they're the same stories that have been repeating for hours. As these stories are told I try to make sense of everything that happened and most importantly why it happened. Slipping into these worlds I feel that which I desire and want slowly slip away. I feel new institutions coming on, perhaps more worlds to join the tea party, but is that what I want? I see the vision of desire for the future, potentially only weeks away... these worlds tell me I won't have that vision, it won't be real. They tell me nothing is real because reality is faded, burned away into the recesses of memory. What are the fundamental necessities for a good, happy life?
Perhaps the future won't be as I see, perhaps the lines between what I should do and what I want to do cross and meet up, only time will tell. At some stages I see myself in the woods, there's a shack that I live in all alone. My beard touches my stomach and my hair even lower, now and again I walk a good ways. On these walks I walk with a limp but I have a cane to steady myself...