If I told you I sold my soul, would you believe me?
If I told you I didn't care about anything anymore, would you believe me?
If I said, there are no rules or walls or anything holding me back anymore, would you fear for my life?
An obsession that's growing stronger and stronger, the feeling of letting go f your life. The feeling of slipping from it. And not caring about it. School is a thousand miles away. Here, in this bubble, there is music and there are books. It's a world that I will never have to leave, I just take small bouts of vacation from it when it is absolutely necessary.
Such as school. What is that pile of homework to me? Is it really my future? I know people who didn't give a damn about school, and they did great later on in life. And they are happy. That pile of homework is sure not happiness at least. Because if I could care less than I actually do, there wouldn't be any angst in leaving the pile untouched as I disappear into my bubble. And I wouldn't feel stressed as I'm writing these words, knowing that french grammar is lying there, waiting. Untouched.
An obsession that won't let me go, and I'm giving in far too easy. I enjoy it. The absorption, the fairytale world, the hypnotic images, the words trickling into every corner of my mind. I shudder at the very sound of a non-existent voice and I can't imagine how it got to this. It is hypnotizing beyond belief.
Taking in moments, in concentrated form. If you just pay attention, you realize there is always something going on. As I walked past the meadow, I could hear the horse bite off the grass, the crisp noise as the grassblade broke, the clapping of the horse's teeth as it chewed, the wind on my face, sending that special scent of horse into my nose. As the horse looked up, its nostrils flaring, taking me in, it's eyes, the intelligence behind them, looking into mine. Or walking up a hill, on the pavement, watching the bare branches of a withered cherry tree struggle in the wind, opening my eyes wide, feeling the gentle drizzle of rain in my face, aware of every single muscle working. There's so much we miss when we don't pay attention and nothing makes me more sad. That we should lose our lives in inattentiveness. That we seem unable to live here and now.
Watching. Taking it in. New realizations. Why do I feel like I'm loosing all the time. “I'm loosing it” they use to say – going nuts. Can't really make a claim on loosing “it”, since I'm still a functioning member of society. But when no worth can be found in the endless repetitions I make every day, what is there left to live for? When you hate every habit and break them in every possible way, and the change is still not enough? When you feel unable to save even the smallest thing, unable to make a difference, just living in a haze of self-hatred, what meaning is there to go on living. When the meaning is evasive and lost and you realize your life has been an endless battle of escapism, where do you turn?
When all the rules you hated and tried to break still govern your life, and you start imagining that the shackles only exist in your own twisted mind, and you start hating yourself even more because life is choice and you're not choosing anything, and you want to... All the clichés haunting me, my own personal poltergeist, the fear of failure, the words in my mind, the plans and dreams and thoughts swirling. Why the hell am I not gone yet?
If I told you I see no future, would you get scared?
If I told you, there is no point in hunting whatever you're hunting, be it meaning of life, love, money, fame, recognition, whatever, if I told you that you'll never ever find it, would you cry with despair?
If I told you there are no rules, only the ones we as humanity make up to chain ourselves to misery, would you try to break free?
If I told you there is no way out of your own mind except for death, would you die with me?
