Ethereal. That is how I feel. Like I’m living two lives, walking two worlds, all at the same time.
How difficult it is to put into words. This…duality.
I feel almost insubstantial. Drifting between two realities, half of me in one, half in the other, never complete, never truly whole.
Which one is the true reality?
I am fading, dissolving into a shade of wishes, what-ifs, and what-might-have-beens, dwindling into a mass of sundered dreams and shattered hopes. And when time comes to claim me, all that is left of me will vanish into the silence that lurks behind every soul.
Until when shall I give in to this two-fold existence? Would you argue that I am clearing a path into madness? Would you understand if I said that it is this very duality that has kept my hold on sanity? Would you believe that when one cannot find refuge from loneliness, the lure of dreams becomes a drug, and words like these are mere residues of a dream-infested high?
Hahaha. Well, I don’t really care much. Personal exorcisms are just that - personal. My demons may not be the same as yours. Vanquishing them may take a while.
Until then, I shall bridge these two worlds, scrambling freely from one end to the other, here one moment, there the next, like some diaphanous deity who comes down from her palace in the sky to frolic in the sands of the earth, just for a little while.
Until I can finally find my place among the stars, blissful in the arms of Night.
Until then.
People should have the right to be antisocial. Or weep for no apparent reason. Or both.
Funny how things never go the way you want them to when you need them to. Like when you desperately need everyone to leave you the hell alone, and they buzz around you like flies. Or when there’s something you badly need to finish in peace and quiet, and people persistently interrupt your thoughts.
It would seem that Newton’s third law was never meant for motion alone. It would seem that, incredibly, the whole universe - no, existence itself - has conspired to produce the exact opposite of that which you so desire.
Or maybe I’m just rambling along here, to give my brain an excuse to play hooky.
Old Macdonald had a farm. E. I. E. I. O.
On the other hand, no, I’m not just rambling. I’m raging. And I want the world to leave me alone. By “the world” I mean people in the immediate vicinity. I’m having one of my phases, and if I could lock myself in a room with my PC for a month, I’ve no doubt I’ll emerge triumphant with a finished story draft.
I wish it were that easy. I wish the world didn’t have to interfere so much with me. I wish I didn’t have to lay my writing aside because I have to earn my keep writing about something I don’t even care about.
And if listen and sing to japanese pop/rock to keep from flying apart, what business is it of yours?