Thought writing must save me from this strange abyss. But, my fingers tremble and eyes sore, as I type and type more. I thought, complex words and bifurcation of sentiments is what makes you relevant and stand out. Just made myself aware, I am writing after 10 years. Now, I am short of words to elaborate the things I dealt, felt, seen and things I asked myself to un-see. Should I write or should I let the time sway and emotions just tread upon my mind in stealth.
I have grown to be more upfront now. Blunt words, piercing emotions and visibility, pale and teary. Is it depth or exhaustion, I have yet to decide. Have you ever been in this state? If you did, you know exactly what I am at. But then I know, its a journey, there will be ups and downs and so on and forth. Here in my head, its something else...I see the Horizon. It is flat and almost endless. "Almost" because I give up too early and hunt for the edge. But nothing moves my core, sometimes its just an elusive fuck-up or sometimes its a long wait for that fuck-up to pop. Perhaps, there is no way in or out but, mere now it is. Quite similar to a high, you are dying to get out of but you keep diving...
When you grow older, you learn to forsake your innocence in exchange for sense. Sense that would judge your vehemence of emotional approach towards life. While it is known sense to abstain from such. But there is a risk you may lose relevance either to yourself or to your family and friends. Perhaps you will know, each day you exist only because your body chose to wake up today to see tomorrow. And that very fact is as relieving as is very haunting.
Relationships will vaporize, as never existed, leaving the dead marks on surface. Nor will the ones you shared a den with, nor the ones you newly acquainted with. No thread that strong that holds up too long. And every time you will either be displaced or replaced. Your dispensability will depend on absolutely nothing. So, I suggest slowing your appetite for acceptance. Because everything you do, will eventually fuck-up and the cycle wont just stop. Yes...that sounded boring and equally depressing. But it is the conviction of the mundane which withstands the storm of change.
Now it is and only there is.
