So I haven't been here in awhile, again. I'm not sure what's up with me lately, but I seem to keep hiding myself away under a rock in a distant land. Maybe because forum posting sometimes feels like work, so I'd rather just not start again.. but then I become bored and must, so it's this never ending circle of weirdness.
But regardless of that, I've written a little bit of nonsense over my course of hiding away. Nothing too awesome, but I like it.
As a side note - Happy 2008 everyone, as well as a belated Christmas.
The society has reached its limits. If we are to live, nay, if we are to even breathe, we must acknowledge what is happening and hope to reach our maximum potential. In order to survive, in order to BE we must first accept the fates that may befall even the best of us.
If we believe in our present, if we believe in our past, we must believe in the future. If we are to cope, and permit ourselves the luxury of peace, must we fight for it? Is it a paradox? To want and yearn for peace and to eventually, undoubtfully fight for it? Or shall peace come in the night when we are all but asleep; when our hopes have vanished, and our dreams become reality?
When the sting of past love affairs have snuffed the fires of youth.
The youth our souls pretended to have lived. Pretended to have enjoyed, welcomed. The youth of today are tomorrows soulless; the youth of yesterday are today’s hungry.
Hungry for life and love - for the touch of a fellow human being; a touch alien to even the more social of us.
Do they realize the past is just the future in a different context? We are the same and we repeat ourselves. Always and forever.
Or is there hope after all? Are we doomed to fulfill the fate of past and future generations or can we escape them for good? Mistakes repeat themselves and we are too lazy and numb to do anything about them.
When I am gone will you worry? Or will you care when it is far too late? When your fate is at hand and nothing will be done. Because the fate of you and I rests on our own bloody hands. The hands of our fathers and children.
We rest on the ideals of our father’s, and we pray for the ideas of our children.
Or do we pray? Rather, mere utterances disposed to the light of our words? Our words are insecure to the thoughts of them and the actions of ourselves. Unsure to all things minus the hopes of our futures.
We are in a suicidal spin gripping at nothing and yet, at everything- at love, hope, and joy.
The pain is over powering and grips my senses. My dreams posses nothing but useless glimpses into thoughts and pretend actions. Actions that mean nothing to me, as I am unable to come to terms with myself. There are no terms to be ashamed of, unless I create them myself, which is entirely possible though unlikely.
My love has grown, and yet we have not met nor do I think we ever shall. She is lost in the spaces of time, and I am grounded with planted feet unwilling to lift even a single toe. She will not stay and I will never depart. Cursed alone in the shadows of acceptance.
What is sanity? What rule does such a word follow, if any? Perspective glares and even surrenders.
Beneath these eyes lies a mistaken hope, a dread and a painless self-existence; an existence that mustn’t show its evil self-loathing head.
The times continue their downfall into oblivion. Into nothingness, and we are stuck here, between two worlds, maybe even three – but we are stuck - glued to the past and to the future. Glued to what is, and what once was.
And because we cannot forget, we will not forgive. To forget would be our last hope entirely, our last gasp, unwillingly sentenced to suffer alone.
To live beyond this – beyond all of this – is something I either continually crave, or regret entirely. The double edge is far too lethal.
You must be wondering, why regret? What could you possibly regret by surviving, by being? By breathing, experiencing, loving? I regret because I cannot see the faces of the ones we have lost.
Who am I to be any different? To expect any different?
Either we all depart, or every single one of us survives. Either you and I believe, or we all cry in the night along the corners of our frozen rooms. Alone together.
The words required to explain my deepest thoughts regarding our current situations are meshed between the blinds of reality and personal perception. Objectivity is nonexistent. Although, I must wonder – did it ever really exist?
Did we ever grasp the materialization of differences? Did we feel the broken promises between our cold calloused fingertips?
The cattle continue their trot whilst the storms build and when they finally explode, which they most certainly will; we will be resting under the tress of freedom. And when the lightening flashes, we will remain, as we were – lifeless.
You need to be logged in to comment