He’s back after a year off. Has it really been a year?
Anyway. Again the illusion of choice. Again the illusion of freedom.
I choose not to do certain things. I choose not to remember certain things. I know people say “remember the good times” yada yada but what’s the good of remembering what was good when it brings bad in the present?
Again, the illusion of choice.
I just wish I was
amazing
I missed the chance to be
amazing.
I need to be
amazing
from now on.
Today I read a letter, from girl to boy, about what girl did to boy and what boy did to girl. About what girl wants boy to do and what girl will do if boy does so.
I sat back and wondered what it was like crying myself to sleep, what it was like feeling that genuine sense of loss, feeling that genuine heartbreak. I know that I will always remember that fresh fresh feeling of hopeless mornings and lonely nights. The wounded and vulnerable times, the valuable times of learning and reflecting about yourself. There are even the songs that bring those times back.
Now I figure that being through those experiences so many times, I’ve numbed myself to them. I’ve lost that fresh feeling. I’ve lost the prerequisite to that. I’ve lost the ability to love wholeheartedly. You might say I’m kidding you, that there is no way that a human being can stop loving.
In some ways I don’t know what it is, myself. It brings to mind
“Hey, j-j-jaded, you got your momma’s smile but you’re yesterday’s child to me, so ja-ded.
You think that’s where it’s at, but is that where it’s supposed to be, you’re getting it all over me,“
and I can’t help but wonder, is life really meant to be lived like this? Have things become so bastardised and over-sexed and materialised to this point? Where love is not about that genuine show of care, tenderness and emotion, but all about money, material gain and a secure life?
Today I ask myself whether I’d go with the flow, or live life my own way and hope for success. I ask myself, have I lost it?
Right now I’m just thinking about the dreams I’ve had and what they mean to me;
the air crash where I survived because I was sitting right at the back of the plane;
the girl riding a camel near the front of the caravan which I was also in, who turned and smiled at me;
the man who jumped from the eighteenth storey and landed close to me, who crawled towards me screaming;
the cat that followed me home, telling me about the wonders of dried ice.
They all don’t make any sense, but affect me in one way or another.
Open your eyes
shoulder your burden
We shall do this together
as one
Way before the sunrise
There is a place
out there
A path through the bush
We walk
Way before the sunrise
Don’t give up on me
I will share your pain
You must keep pushing on
Way before the sunrise
