Long time no see. Lately, been going through a rough patch like we all go through. An ordinary series of events that brings turmoil… I’ve heard it’s a quite common ‘quarter-life crisis’. Bizzare on how ordinary the roughest patch can be.
A lot of reflection comes to life around this time I suppose. Careers. Aspiration. Finance. Family. Relationships. All a wonderful joy of testing patience and sobriety of life – The only part of life I want to be drunk for. Sometimes the things we feel so comfortable in terrorise us and tear apart asunder.
It’s great really, been listening to a lot of Eminem and Ed Sheeran to wind back time a little. I wish I could buy more time to make sense of it all. The sudden collapse of order leaves you speechless, cradling and anxious to cry aloud to revive.
A dark time for me. Not the darkest though.
But all this pent up confusion needs to go somewhere. A diary seems alright but the sense of writing for myself just further hollows my soul – Feeling alone as I cry echoes into the halls of tomorrow. No one will hear me and all that does is feed my anguish and fustration. Perhaps if I blog I can look back in the future as one did with a diary but the moment of feeling less alone.
Owning a website has it’s perks. Just got poems nearby so if I need further consolidation upon reading it I can zip there and possibly to my gallery. It’s a web of my accomplishments to look at when I’m at my lowest. Perhaps the likes, stars or whatever is on the blogs can help me feel reassured I’m not alone.
At the end of the day… I don’t want to be alone. I want to be able to scream how I feel at the top of the building, on a train or even on the crossing lights during peak hours. Forgive me, I don’t mind looking like a mad man. I just realise I don’t want to be the Invisible Man.
The more I go through life the more it feels like I’ve given up on a key part of myself. The inquisitive kid who wondered in awe at things is gone but not forgotten. I feel him living within my shadows – Waiting to be freed. But growing up is more than leaving that ‘self’ in the past. It’s understanding how materialistic the real world is.
You’re not in neverland peter! You never were!
Just an adult in a deep coma of the shadow of ‘self’, expecting the world is a fairytale. Either I was the hero saving or just the one adventuring. Lately, I feel like the one that needs saving. The world isn’t a fairytale. Just spirals of paper flowing to make sense of the tangibles. The cluttering pennies we never spend.
I think it would have been easier in a fairytale – It all makes sense in fantasy. Perhaps that’s why I clutch at making my own reality through writing. Of course it is! I’ve studied psychology too… I know why I do what. Oddly, that is the same reason why I can’t fix my solutions.
Perhaps the fairytales we all see were wrong – The protagonist is the one being saved, never the one saving.
These thoughts flow one by one. Stemming from the yearning of visibility, flowing to neccessities and plummeting hoping that something catches me at the fall.
Where do my ‘Waters’ lead?
I don’t think I’m going anywhere. Just like a water in a vaccum void of gravity. Floating with no tension. All the tension pushing inwards and outwards unable to burst the bubble.
All I need is something to notice me, that visibility – To gravitate. To feel something else.
All I need is something to guide me, materialistic as it may be – To give a little push. To begin the long ride.
All I need is something to catch me, something there… Always there – To feel like the journey truly has ended.
I guess I ask for too much but… I know that by writing this I’ve alleviated all that has burdened my mind tonight. Perhaps this too is all a dream and I’ll wake up from the coma?
Thanks for reading.
Art of Cimeries 