(no subject)
I've grown reluctant over this desperation. Did I lose my innocence? No. I feel this is mere a prelude towards understanding something more benign, more passionate. I can witness myself growing exceedingly intense both in mind and at the heart. There is a great need arising from the otherwise numb heart that has closed down owing to presumptuous conclusions.
I can't say I'm moving towards freedom because, I've grown reluctant over this movement itself. I am determined to stay still until all the movement, in and around, ceases.
I’m tired of this pursuit. Do whatever you wish; I’ll just learn to live with it because I cannot die, yet.
Honestly speaking I can’t seem to comprehend what I am, right now in this moment. I want to call myself jaded and dispassionate yet their very definitions were unable to corner my behavior, being. There are moments when everything in life becomes a question.
“Everything is something”, isn’t it?
I’ve reached the culmination. Offer me an experience, not a teaching. I can’t comprehend anything that is outside of me anymore.
There was a deliberate restrain that I was trying to achieve but was always compelled to give in.
I don’t write for others nor do I write for myself. All my writing is inconsequential. It has no meaning in itself.
When you become loveless you become a tremendous burden upon yourself not to mention others.
Enough of the distrust; just let it go now.
I can't say I'm moving towards freedom because, I've grown reluctant over this movement itself. I am determined to stay still until all the movement, in and around, ceases.
I’m tired of this pursuit. Do whatever you wish; I’ll just learn to live with it because I cannot die, yet.
Honestly speaking I can’t seem to comprehend what I am, right now in this moment. I want to call myself jaded and dispassionate yet their very definitions were unable to corner my behavior, being. There are moments when everything in life becomes a question.
“Everything is something”, isn’t it?
I’ve reached the culmination. Offer me an experience, not a teaching. I can’t comprehend anything that is outside of me anymore.
There was a deliberate restrain that I was trying to achieve but was always compelled to give in.
I don’t write for others nor do I write for myself. All my writing is inconsequential. It has no meaning in itself.
When you become loveless you become a tremendous burden upon yourself not to mention others.
Enough of the distrust; just let it go now.