I don’t know why, it’s that look on your face that reminded me of someone. Rather, it’s the same aching of your heart that’s the same aching I’ve been feeling until now. It’s funny, that even after the years the pain still throbs, and the wound remains unhealed. But we both know I never plan to allow myself to heal; for it will be so as long as I cannot forgive myself.
Diving into those painted eyes was much like viewing a mirror into the past. The hold you had on your face to keep it emotionless felt so familiar, and the struggle to keep your composure felt so meaningless. The feelings of loss we share do not pass with time, but rather stay as scars that remain a permanent fixture.
I could not help but mourn with you even through my silence. I weep not just for you but for us. I wail in sorrowful moans within the four corners of my mind; that neither of us ever take for granted the willingness to give away our hearts ever again.
Fathomed if even, the tears shedded in hopes of reaching what is unfathomable. Like dozens of spiritual hands opening to grasp the sky, if even such a sky ever existed. Flooding the mind in the essence of darkness, if even such a body of water exists. Yet here we are, drowning in the abyss if even for the sake of it. Swapping between sanity and insanity like wearing a set of clothes if even. If even we as people truly exist, if even there was a way to know. If even we speak the truth, we fail to see the truth differentiated between you and I. If even we solved the paradox, the solution would only give birth a means to repeat the cycle. If even we escaped the cycle, we would lose the core fundamental to life,
If you can change yourself to the way you see fit then you are nothing more than a product. What differs you opposed to the materialistic world that changes itself according to our desires? To truly be yourself is to dispose of any external ideology within your mind that tells you to change. Simply put, such things that were not apart of us when we arrived to this planet do not belong to us.
Little did we know that growing up meant subjugating ones mind in accordance to the system of government one resides. Nature has always been either adapt or die. Yet in this case “death” can be the loss of modern convenience, social exclusion, homelessness, and especially loneliness. Yet once standing between the crossroads of either conforming or being our true selves, do we only then realize that it was never a choice to begin with. Having been born into the luxury of the 21st century, having been built upon the BILLIONS of deaths that came before our time, it’s hard-wired into our brains that thousands of years of human progress is just the bare minimum to those fortunate enough.
You don’t have to suffer any longer, nor shall you be forced to adapt a facade to mask your inner self. The sake of humanitarian order should not come at the expense of ourselves, nor shall it come at the expense of any future generations. To be forced systemic expectation down our throats, and to live under constant societal pressure makes us no different than sheep, herded at the mercy of the land from which we were unwillingly born.
The world stopped existing about four years ago. You see, that’s when everything died. No, not in a physical sense— everything died in every way BUT physical.
There was a dream I had during that time where I died 17 times. It truly did reflect the state of mind I was going through. I’m not sure if it was because of the world, me, or a combination of both. Actually, I don’t even think I know a single thing about anything anymore. All of my knowledge died too when I had that dream, and ever since whenever I look at myself in the mirror,
all I see is a ghost.
Nothing has been the same ever since everything died. It’s crazy because you don’t even realize you’re actually dead until years later. (Again, not in the physical sense). I wonder if there are those like me out in this infinite void. I wonder if there are those who can look at a human and tell if they’re a walking bag of flesh or if there’s actually a soul in there.
I don’t know a single thing and I doubt I ever will.
This “enlightenment” spoken of in sentence, observed through language and understanding is but a tangible object even if not physical.
If one plans in advance, fabricates goals acting as steps to reach towards this “enlightenment”, then it is not enlightenment they wish to attain.
The same can be said for happiness, fulfillment, virtue; such concepts display themselves like art pieces, anchors of interpretation for each eye that wanders into view.
For if anything is to be considered truth then it must be beyond interpretation, beyond concept, beyond logic, beyond language, beyond understanding, beyond human.
And it is a very human thing to desire something we cannot.
regret, past with confliction— death in the spiritual sense. Reality becomes not of which the eyes behold but rather the finger that points towards it.
They will lie to your face as if these
Memories 憶 never even existed. Embroidered in darkness lies our other halves we pretend don’t exist either.
But you can’t forget where it all started, you can’t forget how it never even started. To reach infinity is to be infinitely far away from where we even began;
It’s been so long yet the embers still fall gracefully from the sun. Hot to the touch, burning beneath this tormented heart a memory of flame gasping for its last breath.
Has it really been that long? The burns remain bare to reveal the still wounded traumas of the days since past. Yet even as we dance in dreams within the presence of the moon, your beauty is just as divine as it were yesterday.
If only a memory, then let me live as if it were today. Allow me to fantasize about you a bit longer, even if it steals a piece from me every time I do.
Waking up to a dream that squeezes your heart into ache, greeted by a text from someone who doesn’t even know you anymore.
The more the days pass the more convincing upside down is right side up.
Between a sandwich of knives with every breath inviting the blades closer to your heart. As if letting go of those vices was all you ever needed to do,
Yet they call you by your name as do the faces that witness you while you sleep,
As if the life you’ve always wanted is hysterically screaming inside your head, ensnared within the logical trap of a complete failure like yourself.
You wont ever find anything in the direction you’re heading.
Walking through the fiery blending of colors in the shaded sky. Emerging from the shadowy cloud of the trauma of the past. Following the trail of smoke, curiosity guised as death.
The fork in the road leads to either uncertainty or salvation; yet the cost of uncertainty is salvation, and the cost of salvation is existence.
To live life as it were given to thee; mind, flesh and spirit. To succumb to the flesh, to be burdened by the mind, and to be lost as the spirit. If not control the masses by answering the questions left unanswered, give them distractions instead to feign ignorance towards the mystery of life.
Damned if we do, damned if we don’t. Those who see, those who don’t. Those who try, those who fight. Those who pretend, and those who struggle.
Inevitability is impossible to escape, no matter how many times we circle in our cognitive loops. However there is but a single grain of truth in every piece of existence we fathom; even in the ones we don’t.
But to find answers in the impossible is the main attraction for those who seek the high. It is a roller coaster that changes each time you ride it, yet we always end up back where we started. This cyclic nature of existence, is it truly impossible to escape?
What are we truly to do if given nothing but existence? Who or what gave such a thing? Why do we even bother?— It doesn’t matter nor will any of the thoughts you spend questioning it.
It is like the limitation of language— a game of telephone. Such thoughts and feelings are repeatedly translated until it is nothing like the original source.
But even so, perhaps what we helplessly question is intended to be that way.
To build a kingdom, not for your own but to serve the greater purpose. To enact the will that is beyond the flesh, for the flesh is weak and shall fail many times over. To give back unto that of which wakes us from slumber and gives us breath.
To teach ourselves that of which we do not know. To hold our tongue and breath even if wrongfully prosecuted. To do good in the presence when no one is around.
It is a blessing to be alive, for we are worthy of life as long as the dawn of each day arises.
Thoughts intwined, constricted and bound by the memory of you.
You, the one visiting my dreams, picking away at the wounds in my heart. Does the silence that comes after ending on good terms really make it good?
Do I live up to my name even if I am replaced? The spot where I once resided in your heart, my initials carved into the wooden bed frame of where we slept,
are they still there?
Will there be anything left a few years from now?
Is it my fault I choke on the idea of crucifying my vulnerability by wanting to reach out to you?
Is it truly a fault of my own to have met you in this unwilling existence?