In ultimul timp, sentimentele mele au trecut pe default, nu mai cred in copilarie, zambete, inocenta - am crescut.
Dar oare exista iubire sau ma amagesc si acum cu vise colorate, admirand de fapt pelicula de praf de pe varful pantofului meu?
Se spune ca abis-ul contine deopotriva si fericirea si nefericirea in palma ei stanga, ca prapastia dintre cele doua se pierde vag in departarea dulce a liniilor pielii...
Si atunci ma intreb de fapt : Cine sunt? Ce caut? Ce vreau? Ce iubesc? De ce exist? Si din nou, ca si atunci, ca si mereu, gasesc sens in nonsens. Dar am pierdut speranta, increderea, tot ceea ce ma definea, toate aceste lucruri s-au ascuns de mine si-mi refuza accesul...
De ce oare este atat de greu sa scrii : Imi vine sa tip? De ce trebuie durerea sa fie poetica? De ce trebuie sa modeleze sentimente ce iti sfarama sufletul cu fiecare fasie de aer pe care o respiri?
Ca sa nu vorbesc de exemplificare, de tradare, ignoranta, egoism, orgoliu...Si uite asa a inceput sfarsitul meu. Am plecat si nu ma pot intoarce, singura bucatica ce inca ma mai reprezinta, alunga posibilitatea intoarcerii si spera, aspira la schimbare...
I've grown fond of simple things, most basic needs since I had the opportunity to learn what loosing truly means.
I feel my insides scattering and resonating throughout my entire body, violently toying with my mind as I feel the end growing tighter.
Then it shifts, a soft and dying ray of sunshine blinds the depths of these dark thoughts, thoughts of despair, death and blood.
So tell me what can me more horrifying than realizing there's no way out... You can see feelings floating all around you, you can see others feeling but you cannot feel the faintest bit of them... But you have to agree, join the game and survive at times even put off a lovely show which involves smiling, joking, talking about all of these as if they truly have sense, as if you're not in it because it's a one way choice.
You are given life, and from that point on you are fidgeting inside chosen parameters without the possibility of checking out. It's funny how death can never be your own option, everyone thinks it's sane or normal to suffer a natural death or simply die by someone's hands. We'd rather put our last breath in God's hands or someone else's, either way it's called fate, a cruel one which you have to abide.
With no opportunity of climbing back up, life defines another "parameter". It's called waiting and it pretty much means looking for someone to clean up the mess, in this case the mess is ME.
And the worst part is meeting someone who would willingly, not to mention gladly, pull you up and place some meaning back in this forsaken chaos, but failing in doing so, since the burden would weigh greatly over their shoulders. To make it simple, nomatter how much we'd like to help, that much weight would just crush anything and anyone in their way.
But I've turned philosophical and that has never been my purpose. My one and sole purpose however, has always been primordial. I wanted to walk this path with a wise smile on my face, at times in the company of the ONE. My forsaken, my darling cursed...
How hard must have been for him, seeing me fall like this, changing so rapidly and radically, nurturing the consent, any type or form of it as belief or hope for change in those who can never be changed.
I close this chapter, I feel I failed in portraying my fall, I failed to relate the true reasons why I am on the ground, helpless and alone in this darkest hour, with barely no one to witness my dying candle light....
