CARESS
Bluelighter
FOG
Through the mists of my mind, I can see a dim light's glimmer at the journey's end. I find myself wondering how long I have fumbled through the fog trying to find my way. At times my intellect shone like high beams bouncing off the fog and blinding me in return. Blinded by my need to over-analyze situations and people…or was I just plain blinded by emotion? Other times, my lack of insight left me traveling in darkness with no lamp to light my way at all. I didn't WANT to see the obstacles so clearly before me, so I trudged on eventually tripping over them and sprawling headlong…..Into what exactly? Mistakes, good intentions gone awry, decisions based on heart not head….simply choosing to be blind.
How much time has been stolen from me? Sadly our total lifespan is just a grain of sand on an endless beach….so short and yet too precious to squander.
Time stolen either due to the evil voids in others, or due to self-made disasters can never be recovered and remains…time lost.
I find my mind screaming silently, "Don't waste my time, but don't leave me here, either."
Am I becoming more and more comfortable stirring around in the fog? Have I reached a point where it is more pleasurable to be lost than found? Do I wrap myself in mistakes of the past like a warm blanket…using them to protect me from any chance of a future….an excuse to stop living life and merely exist in fog? If the first step in any journey is finding one's self-discontent…then am I standing still heading for nothing because I choose to be content with failure? Am I the person sinking in quicksand and smiling with a total lack of the conscious fear that urges us to recognize danger and survive?
Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die….sometimes I say, "What the hell, my soul was murdered years ago. Where's the party?". Often, by the time I reach the party, the guests have gotten wise and called it quits. They grew up…damn them. Now I dance alone…spinning and spinning until I am dizzy with boredom. The decision to feel ANYTHING is risky. The decision to feel NOTHING comes with an even higher risk. If I feel a small something, then the big bad somethings might break down the door. If I feel nothing then I dance alone in the fog, pirouetting only to the sound of my own heart.
Do I wish for death, you may ask. No, surprisingly enough, I don't. I only wish to feel anything and have those feelings spawn something productive for a change and not an endless menagerie of mistakes and pain. I ask too much, I suppose, because the ability to feel is purchased at times with the agony of dealing with both past and present.
I see a dim light at the journey's end. How I choose to get there, either the charted or uncharted road is up to me. But to choose not to choose is a choice in itself…a choice that leaves one standing in the purchase exchange line, only to find that it has been closed all along.
Through the mists of my mind, I can see a dim light's glimmer at the journey's end. I find myself wondering how long I have fumbled through the fog trying to find my way. At times my intellect shone like high beams bouncing off the fog and blinding me in return. Blinded by my need to over-analyze situations and people…or was I just plain blinded by emotion? Other times, my lack of insight left me traveling in darkness with no lamp to light my way at all. I didn't WANT to see the obstacles so clearly before me, so I trudged on eventually tripping over them and sprawling headlong…..Into what exactly? Mistakes, good intentions gone awry, decisions based on heart not head….simply choosing to be blind.
How much time has been stolen from me? Sadly our total lifespan is just a grain of sand on an endless beach….so short and yet too precious to squander.
Time stolen either due to the evil voids in others, or due to self-made disasters can never be recovered and remains…time lost.
I find my mind screaming silently, "Don't waste my time, but don't leave me here, either."
Am I becoming more and more comfortable stirring around in the fog? Have I reached a point where it is more pleasurable to be lost than found? Do I wrap myself in mistakes of the past like a warm blanket…using them to protect me from any chance of a future….an excuse to stop living life and merely exist in fog? If the first step in any journey is finding one's self-discontent…then am I standing still heading for nothing because I choose to be content with failure? Am I the person sinking in quicksand and smiling with a total lack of the conscious fear that urges us to recognize danger and survive?
Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die….sometimes I say, "What the hell, my soul was murdered years ago. Where's the party?". Often, by the time I reach the party, the guests have gotten wise and called it quits. They grew up…damn them. Now I dance alone…spinning and spinning until I am dizzy with boredom. The decision to feel ANYTHING is risky. The decision to feel NOTHING comes with an even higher risk. If I feel a small something, then the big bad somethings might break down the door. If I feel nothing then I dance alone in the fog, pirouetting only to the sound of my own heart.
Do I wish for death, you may ask. No, surprisingly enough, I don't. I only wish to feel anything and have those feelings spawn something productive for a change and not an endless menagerie of mistakes and pain. I ask too much, I suppose, because the ability to feel is purchased at times with the agony of dealing with both past and present.
I see a dim light at the journey's end. How I choose to get there, either the charted or uncharted road is up to me. But to choose not to choose is a choice in itself…a choice that leaves one standing in the purchase exchange line, only to find that it has been closed all along.
