Earnest... a state of existence so natural. Without deception, without lethargy, without the apathy so common in her life. Here, emotions lay on the sleeve, because what truly is the point in hiding them?
Deception is ultimately useless, laughed at, even, because in deception, no one receives what they truly want.
Life is a serious endeavor; every weighed descision adds to the fullness of a purposeful life.
To be earnest - honest, caring, sincere - is to hold the very virtue necessary to joy.
Perhaps, she thinks as she lies down to sleep, that is what life is.
Very simply: life is to love; life is love. Life truly lived is to be brutally honest with yourself and the humanity which surrounds you.
For only in honesty can love exist;
only in love, can there be peace;
and only in peace, can there be true life.
Every day she grows further aware of the stark accuracy in the title: the sleeping ones. She had thought it dramatic at first, but a sleeper rarely realizes they are dreaming.
Life is wasted asleep: sleeping behind a mask of submission, of normalcy, white lies, and timidity; sleeping, staggering from one day to the next in vain hope for a future of perfection which may never arrive.
Even worse: asleep to the vibrancy of one's own desires, thoughts, and aspirations.
Who do I aspire to be? She asks. She does not yet know.
One question answered, another comes to take its place.
Yet after even a century of sleep, a mere moment of wakefulness can impose rushes of vivacity upon a previously grey life. So as the thin string of hope she holds for her fellow humanity revives, she concludes that, perhaps, hope is not quite delusional after all.
10-10-22
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.
