What do I feel?
Is it truly nothing?
I do not wish to talk to anyone, do not wish to see anyone, do not wish to hear anyone: do not wish anyone to see me. Nothing bad can happen if I stay still... If I stay isolated, I cannot burst into aggression. I seem to ignore the slow disintegration of my mind and spirit while in isolation.
From two decades of experience in this world, it seems, to me, that humanity simply creates each other, to break each other, to heal each other, to break each other again.
The children: they sparkle with the excitement of having every day an adventure. But as I watch adults, their days become a chore.
Listening to children, their joyful screams and laughs, how they carelessly tackle each other to the ground, then focus, again, on their tasks, the enticement of a child is obvious. Who wouldn't wish to raise a distinct and novel life? But, it seems, that parents-to-be forget children must grow up.
As we grow, it seems we simply start to float: sleeping through our days; working and sleeping and eating until, at some point, the days, just, stop.
And will we be at peace with the lives we lived?
My head aches; my stomach is in pain; my brain is at war with my mind. Day by day, a moral law - which I thought would be immortal - drops from my own standard.
Can't leave. Can't stay. Can't leave. Can't stay. Can't leave. Can't stay... the petals fall one by one.
Being here is perhaps akin to a dark hole, sucking everything into itself. Scary, dark, aimless, empty, powerful. When, time after time, I circle back around to the light, it ends again in darkness; I am tired of the cycle.
Yet, I am lucky, for I know why I exist; eventually, during these interwoven bright days, I'll find myself, even when I fight it.
The darkness is deepest before the dawn, and, "in the end: all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well."
This is what I say to myself. When I cannot feel it, logic affords belief.
°°°
P1ece x P1Harmony collaboration.
8-18-22
YOU ARE READING
Afternoon Thoughts
Non-Fictionメ Thoughts of a bleeding mind. Sometimes, the darkest thoughts swirl to become the most beautiful dance when woven into words. To write calms me. Perhaps someone will know these feelings.
