(no subject)
I keep waiting for that clear thought, that breath of fresh air. Drowning in this ocean is unbearable only to the point before I break. Then, I get just enough air to keep me thrashing my limbs & willing my way back to the surface. I have to wonder, is there any reason to fight against the current, fight against the riptide? "Do not go to war if you cannot win." This was not my choice. I did not want this fight. But, as my stubborn nature dictates, I will fight it.
Fleeing thoughts of any kind, just wanting to have the quiet inside myself. I wonder where it all started, and how, and why. I see the signs everywhere now that I look back on it. And I wonder how I could have known. Looking at every small piece of my life as it stands now - I wonder if I made the wrong choice. Haste, greed, lust - they all play their parts in all of it - every waking moment, I'm sure of it. I only wonder how long everyone else will keep up this facade that disguises a disease for an alternitive cure.
My teeth are clenched & my jaw hurts. I feel like I was in one of those fights from the old days. And then there's the hot & cold flashes. My hands tremble. And those fun moments where I go from despair to rage to subtle anger to cold to nothing. Repeat. Not a fun way to spend 5 seconds at a time. But, I guess that's normal for me.
It's one of those days/nights where I can feel my life dripping away. Good to the last drop? No. It wasn't that good to begin with, so why should the ending be better? I feel myself more like a virus than a human. Slowly infecting all those that I touch with my twisted ideas & concepts that - even when I'm gone, will still linger. The symptom of a great potential squandered on a greater emptiness. I can see all of it at once. Building & building to some great climax that is only... That is only a pause. I see the things I have done, all the things that could have happened had I chosen differently and I can't help but wonder. Regret does not come into play. Only curiousity, my biggest lust that will never be slaked. My lust for life has become damp. Foggy with the thoughts of other things. To the point where I can't pinpoint the distractins in the clouds of my mind. I can only pay so much attention. And when I should happen upon a clear thought, a moment of understanding, I don't embrace it. No. I just look at it. As best I can & in whatever form I can. I look at it. I try and ask a question or two before it goes away. But by then my mind is so busy with nothing that the questions go unheard. I used to admire these moments much as I would a painting in a museum. Now I loathe them like the pitiful excuses for huans that I see day in and day out. What a sick play this is, what shameful puppets we are. I try and busy myself so I don't have to look upon them/us. Walking, talking, fighting, fucking - and all to what purpose? No, wrong question. No question will be right for it. I look at these flesh puppets and I think about how empty they are, and at the same time how lucky they are. Most of them will never realize just how empty they are. They might feel that twinge that tells them they will never be satisfied, but they won't feel the pure hatred & jaded guilt that comes. It's something I know all too well. I've tried to deny it, I've tried to change it, I've even tried to embrace it. Now, I just feel it as a separate entity within me. This callous and perverse thing. It is the virus of my life creeping away at every nerve in my body & every thought in my mind. This discontenting poison rests inside me in that way that I hear about God being inside everyone.