Tuesday, 27 January 2015

Is this who we really are? Is this who we are chasing? Everybody is after something and it sucks when you do not get it. You know some times you feel so down you feel like nothing even exists because all you can see around you is the bottom and it’s all that makes sense. Episodes of despair are contiguous. You wear scarves and sweaters to protect you but the truth is if the cold wants to bite you, it will. It’ll bite you and it’ll be so cold you feel like you’ve frozen to your core. You’ll try fumbling for answers about everything but you’ll realize you do not have a question itself. Is this the first day of your life? When did everything change? When did you feel like you are one complete person? I’m not one of your painted faces, I can’t speak like voices do, I can’t look like faces pretend and  I am who I am. I am not na├»ve, do not make me. Do you know statues which stand tall pretending to assert all importance when in reality all they wish to do is free themselves of the cement shackles and move and run and rummage? Do you know how everyone wants the perfect sphere of happiness and anything less seems revolting?
Do you know how brittle you can be? Isn’t it funny you don’t know how brittle you are until you shatter completely? You shatter completely. And you feel like you weren’t even one. Look around you, is this what you wanted to fall into? Wasn’t it absolutely, rigorously miserable forecast on your behalf? This isn’t happening. This shouldn’t be happening. If the masterpiece that was to be made wasn’t supposed to be the masterpiece in the first place, if it was only supposed be something to be looked at and forgotten and never talked about again, do you wonder if everything around you is even real? The truth is you need something by your side, something real, something unkempt and something so strong that it’ll never leave you and keep you warm forever. It’ll make you glow and make you bring out the best of you, of your soul. Your soul. It’ll be beautiful like your soul. Tell me this, won’t you tell me this? If something so beautiful was supposed to happen, why would it happen and break you so completely? Was the beauty in it so worth shattering you to pieces and make you never want to come back again? Somewhere someone reads an improbable tale of bliss and sighs, somewhere someone weeps in all gloom because they relate to every stroke of misery they see around.
I’m done, I’m done for now. Won’t you sing to me? I am too tired to sing on my own. Please do not ask me. I know you’d be proud if I could drive away from these winds, against their flow. I do not know how I am going to do that. For now, I just know I am so completely shattered it’s going to take a little while because everything seems real and everything feels wrong and I know it because that’s all I feel now. Will I last another season? If I could last, I would sing a song for my life and I would stroll between my streaks with my hands in the air. But till then, you hang me if you have to. And don’t you worry, I’ll be gone. I was going to be gone anyway.

I wish to get away, away from everything. I wish to fly for once, I wish to fly. I wonder if the nothingness inside me will make me nothing enough to fly. 

1 comment:

  1. Well then, you can't really build something stronger unless the first one gets shattered.

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