metamorphosis 1
"Life. My life. I try to express it in words. What I feel, how I am trapped somewhere up the river stream and can't swim to shore. My heart wakes up clogged as if my breath was long gone, lost.
I am lost, i guess you can put it that way. I try to remember the last time I laught with real pleasure and not some facked emotion. And it all comes back to the same point, a unifying place where time and space where suspended under a closed look. A close up if you wish to called it so. I would give anything to stand still in those moments. They are my compass.
Anyone hearing me might perceive me as strange, odd and mostly unfair. I lead a good life. At least to what society describes as a good life. And yet I seem to feel unsatisfied.
Since birth everything seems designed for you, until the day you learn how to draw on your own, with your own paints, your own pencils and you get this insatiable need to look for the shape of things and capture it. Or at least look for shapes that make sense for you, your way of drawing, your way of seeing things, feeling them.
I guess I am a troubled mind. When everyone is worried about economic crisis, I worry about another crisis, is humanity just a sum of things? What about soul? Can we keep it or will we have to lose it along the way to survive? Do we need everything? If we have nothing are we less in the eyes of society? Can't I just be, with no specific purpose?
I have had my moments of clarity. I long for the day when I can pace myslef without being pushed in a certain direction. I just want to feel free, be able to savour each moment without feeling the burden of sacrifice. Others sacrificed for me, I need to return the favour. But how much more can I take?
I feel time closing in on me and I can't breath.
If we cry do you not see our tears? If we scream do you not hear? If we fall will you not see us on the ground? What else can a fellow man feel so it can be left alone, in his journey?
We fight and we struggle everyday for a shape drawn in a moment of our own.
My blank page, my words, my feelings, my life.
My life to live.
Where to? I go...."
V
I am lost, i guess you can put it that way. I try to remember the last time I laught with real pleasure and not some facked emotion. And it all comes back to the same point, a unifying place where time and space where suspended under a closed look. A close up if you wish to called it so. I would give anything to stand still in those moments. They are my compass.
Anyone hearing me might perceive me as strange, odd and mostly unfair. I lead a good life. At least to what society describes as a good life. And yet I seem to feel unsatisfied.
Since birth everything seems designed for you, until the day you learn how to draw on your own, with your own paints, your own pencils and you get this insatiable need to look for the shape of things and capture it. Or at least look for shapes that make sense for you, your way of drawing, your way of seeing things, feeling them.
I guess I am a troubled mind. When everyone is worried about economic crisis, I worry about another crisis, is humanity just a sum of things? What about soul? Can we keep it or will we have to lose it along the way to survive? Do we need everything? If we have nothing are we less in the eyes of society? Can't I just be, with no specific purpose?
I have had my moments of clarity. I long for the day when I can pace myslef without being pushed in a certain direction. I just want to feel free, be able to savour each moment without feeling the burden of sacrifice. Others sacrificed for me, I need to return the favour. But how much more can I take?
I feel time closing in on me and I can't breath.
If we cry do you not see our tears? If we scream do you not hear? If we fall will you not see us on the ground? What else can a fellow man feel so it can be left alone, in his journey?
We fight and we struggle everyday for a shape drawn in a moment of our own.
My blank page, my words, my feelings, my life.
My life to live.
Where to? I go...."
V
posted by Miss Vesper at 6:24 PM
1 Comments:
i think what is considered a good life changes from person to person... it doesn't matter if you fill all the requisites that society considers as a good life, it all starts and ends with you... if the battle with yourself is still going strong then there's no room for anything else... we're the beginning, middle and end of our own unhappiness...
we're not robots and we all want different things, so i can't understand why is it that when our desires escape from what's considered normal, we're viewed like crazy people or worse... children in adult bodies...
ultimately we dream and fight for the things we never had and still seem to run away from us... it's easy to understand someone who never had a home dreaming of owning several... it's easy to understand those who were born poor wanting to die rich... it should be equally easy to understand tortured souls wanting peace and love in their void existences... we aim for what we can't have, and I think that we do so because we wouldn't know what to do with that prize... so we choose between the lies that comfort us and the reality that destroy us and hope for a short survival...
kisses :)
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