It's like world ablaze while completely fireproof.
I do my best, I try to conceal that there is a war being waged inside. My brain has lost its mind. It's gone nuts, and my sanity has all but squirreled its way out of here. I've long been unstable, that is no breaking news, but there was some sort of balance in place, something helped keep me straight on the dangling tightrope. But something might have been building up, and the bad seems to have taken over. I've had bad night terrors, and I don't mean the ones you come across when you're sleeping. It's like the devil and god are raging inside, except we're just talking about a fallen angel and a sneaky imp. I feel trapped, because I miss things I was not used to be lacking. Goals, someone to look up to, something to look for, someone to look after; but look, these are just empty boxes right now. I know why I've kept chasing girls since I started feeling alive: to distract me from the fact that I was not. I have exceeded the point where it can be beneficial to use self-deprecation. It's become a motto, it's engraved in me. I'm never good enough, I am bloodthirsty for strength, progress, power; many abstract notions that do not even make sense to me. Yet I long for them, hoping that they will carry me to the stars. They're just so far away, and the closer I seem to get, the more the path seems to close. So I just put on a smile and get by, I do my best to transform into a puddle of myself in society, or what I think is a puddle of me, since I don't really know what either me or myself refers to - a set of feelings, emotions, behaviors, endeavors? I hold the belief that I am a reflection of the people surrounding me. I don't think I've ever been someone so to speak. I wasn't born bland, I was born flawed, but with nothing to cover the wrong. I never took away, but I took after who I deemed fit, friends, family, one-time acquaintances even to scratch away the paltry wallpaper and smother the flaws with thick layers of betterness. But the bitterness stuck, and I still don't know why, still don't know what is wrong with me. But I seemed to deal just fine. I still think I do, the episodes just are more common these days. Maybe it's what they call growing up. And while I certainly feel like I am still growing, I am growing still. And as a reflection of the people I've loved, I try all the combinations, but often come short. Something is not here, something is missing, something that would allow me to bust out of this prison of mine and take on the darkness. Because I can keep on keeping it on a tight leash for as long as I want, it's not gonna get rid of it. There has to be something here that would up the ante and still let me reach for it without pushing the sky farther away. And now that my brain has committed suicide and my heart has worked itself to death, it seems that only my guts are left.
And I'm not sure they're gonna have the guts to do that on their own.
Every time I try to write sang words, it feels wrong.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x4uyXUB4PHo
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Thursday, January 7, 2016
Pent-up
When exactly did I lower my head, leave the little thing on the ground, and resume walking?
Well, somewhere around last summer, maybe? I don't really have any recollection of that event.
But I mean, I had to right? Poor thing was not working anyway. I tried to fix it, for like, ever; it just would not mend. It kept failing and I kept idling part of my life away. Ok that might be a bit of an overstatement, but still. I could not get it to function, and it's not like those things are commonplace in the open. I'm not a surgeon. I tried to act like I was, but I clearly don't have the skillset. So yeah, well I figured, I just need the part that pumps blood to go on with my days so might as well not bother with the rest. Once again, it was to never work again, so... My brain actually can pull a hell of a copycat. It looks pretty darn similar, but it does not nearly feel so.
Well at least now I don't really have to worry anymore about all that shit.
Doesn't it feel a bit like giving up though?
Oh yeah no I remember now, it was not last summer. Yeah no, my bad.
You came back and well, oh boy, was it unexpected.
Let me clarify this: Along the way of all these peculiar and often unfruitful tales, I've always attempted to capture a few tidbits. To put it in a fun way, it's like when you go to the Safari Zone. You've been allowed some time in it, but when you know time is running out and you failed at capturing this super rad Pokémon yet once more, well you still don't want to go out empty-handed, so you try to catch a smaller fish. In my case, that would be my Magikarp collection.
When you look at it more closely and rationally however, you might just be able to see an old, dusty trophy cabinet with an excess of consolation prizes. But until a few weeks back there was still a pair of items that kind of stood out: a huge cup, right in the middle that obviously had been tampered with -it was kept perfectly clean in some places, but was terribly damaged in others. The contrast was, well, flustering. The other item was, in its own way, even more subject to catching the eye. It was smaller, yet arguably kept on ice and preserved for many more years to an amazing degree of perfection. It also had a couple other unique characteristics to it.
Well, not anymore.
Seeing Emma was, indeed, beneficial. But not right away.
Then you came back to me, and I realized, well, too litle too late, I don't love you anymore, and I don't love Emma anymore either. The two girls that were to remains the loves of my life had just become, in fact, heart memories. It was not vivid anymore, it was not beating for them.
What a waste.
At this point, well, yeah, I decided to get rid of my old dysfunctional - my apologies, not-the-least-functional-in-the-world feeling box.
That's crazy. If I could go back to the kid I was and I were to tell him that I would, at that point, refuse something I would have most definitely been willing to die for - multiple times if necessary -, I think it would not compute. "No way, I couldn't ever do that, whatever, wherever, whenever". Well, you would not be entirely wrong buddy. I mean, you could never have done that. I did.
I swore I'd never chang, and I lied - sort of. I've said it before, I HAD to adapt. I'm not immune to survival of the fittest. And now, well, I'm not that same person anymore.
And I am pretty much sure that I am the one who couldn't care less about it.
You are not beyond salvation though. At the end of the day, anger, hatred, anguish, despair, all that does not deprive you from hope. Fatigue does. You don't self-destruct from those negative feelings. In fact, they are not contradictory to any positive thought. They might even be a good way to channel enough energy into them, if you are good enough of a chemist. You don't even really lose hope at all if you manage to stay alive - because that's the thing, if you had lost hope, you'd not be here anymore anyways. But if you're unlucky enough, at some point, you just realize that you're doing ok without it, and what it brings you is just a conniving chatty sidekick who's way too loud. Navi, anyone?
So you dispose of it. And when you see the light and get out of the well, well, you think you're doing well by yourself. And I was. I am. Ok, if not well then at least as good as before. But that's beyond the point.
But you can't go retrieve it. And then you come to your senses and realize that, snap, that was it. THAT was the little thing that kept the feeling box going.
Too bad now though, because it's nowhere to be found. You have to make do.
So no, you, most people, they are not beyond salvation.There is no such thing as beyond salvation, everybody alive just has a fundamental right to run towards love. That's just, my map's buried in the trash.
And truth be told, I could still easily enter the crowd and follow in the same direction, but I really don't feel like it.
I'm good with my own lonely way, even if I hate this sensation of resignation. But eh, I'll just shrug my love life away. It seems appropriate.
I am not that stupid, I have met many girls, I know some who would be willing to love me if I let them, I know many who would be willing to love me if they let themselves.
They're not my answer.
Nobody is anymore.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RHhkd2B87Q8
Well, somewhere around last summer, maybe? I don't really have any recollection of that event.
But I mean, I had to right? Poor thing was not working anyway. I tried to fix it, for like, ever; it just would not mend. It kept failing and I kept idling part of my life away. Ok that might be a bit of an overstatement, but still. I could not get it to function, and it's not like those things are commonplace in the open. I'm not a surgeon. I tried to act like I was, but I clearly don't have the skillset. So yeah, well I figured, I just need the part that pumps blood to go on with my days so might as well not bother with the rest. Once again, it was to never work again, so... My brain actually can pull a hell of a copycat. It looks pretty darn similar, but it does not nearly feel so.
Well at least now I don't really have to worry anymore about all that shit.
Doesn't it feel a bit like giving up though?
Oh yeah no I remember now, it was not last summer. Yeah no, my bad.
You came back and well, oh boy, was it unexpected.
Let me clarify this: Along the way of all these peculiar and often unfruitful tales, I've always attempted to capture a few tidbits. To put it in a fun way, it's like when you go to the Safari Zone. You've been allowed some time in it, but when you know time is running out and you failed at capturing this super rad Pokémon yet once more, well you still don't want to go out empty-handed, so you try to catch a smaller fish. In my case, that would be my Magikarp collection.
When you look at it more closely and rationally however, you might just be able to see an old, dusty trophy cabinet with an excess of consolation prizes. But until a few weeks back there was still a pair of items that kind of stood out: a huge cup, right in the middle that obviously had been tampered with -it was kept perfectly clean in some places, but was terribly damaged in others. The contrast was, well, flustering. The other item was, in its own way, even more subject to catching the eye. It was smaller, yet arguably kept on ice and preserved for many more years to an amazing degree of perfection. It also had a couple other unique characteristics to it.
Well, not anymore.
Seeing Emma was, indeed, beneficial. But not right away.
Then you came back to me, and I realized, well, too litle too late, I don't love you anymore, and I don't love Emma anymore either. The two girls that were to remains the loves of my life had just become, in fact, heart memories. It was not vivid anymore, it was not beating for them.
What a waste.
At this point, well, yeah, I decided to get rid of my old dysfunctional - my apologies, not-the-least-functional-in-the-world feeling box.
That's crazy. If I could go back to the kid I was and I were to tell him that I would, at that point, refuse something I would have most definitely been willing to die for - multiple times if necessary -, I think it would not compute. "No way, I couldn't ever do that, whatever, wherever, whenever". Well, you would not be entirely wrong buddy. I mean, you could never have done that. I did.
I swore I'd never chang, and I lied - sort of. I've said it before, I HAD to adapt. I'm not immune to survival of the fittest. And now, well, I'm not that same person anymore.
And I am pretty much sure that I am the one who couldn't care less about it.
You are not beyond salvation though. At the end of the day, anger, hatred, anguish, despair, all that does not deprive you from hope. Fatigue does. You don't self-destruct from those negative feelings. In fact, they are not contradictory to any positive thought. They might even be a good way to channel enough energy into them, if you are good enough of a chemist. You don't even really lose hope at all if you manage to stay alive - because that's the thing, if you had lost hope, you'd not be here anymore anyways. But if you're unlucky enough, at some point, you just realize that you're doing ok without it, and what it brings you is just a conniving chatty sidekick who's way too loud. Navi, anyone?
So you dispose of it. And when you see the light and get out of the well, well, you think you're doing well by yourself. And I was. I am. Ok, if not well then at least as good as before. But that's beyond the point.
But you can't go retrieve it. And then you come to your senses and realize that, snap, that was it. THAT was the little thing that kept the feeling box going.
Too bad now though, because it's nowhere to be found. You have to make do.
So no, you, most people, they are not beyond salvation.There is no such thing as beyond salvation, everybody alive just has a fundamental right to run towards love. That's just, my map's buried in the trash.
And truth be told, I could still easily enter the crowd and follow in the same direction, but I really don't feel like it.
I'm good with my own lonely way, even if I hate this sensation of resignation. But eh, I'll just shrug my love life away. It seems appropriate.
I am not that stupid, I have met many girls, I know some who would be willing to love me if I let them, I know many who would be willing to love me if they let themselves.
They're not my answer.
Nobody is anymore.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RHhkd2B87Q8
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