what is it that hinders my ability to feel peace, that strikes at the idea of contentment? and why do i lack the energy to fight it? this fist that is so strong and condemning, this towering object called time, why does it scare me? i’m behind, on many things. i long to look at the world from the eye of a plane and with this view i would be able to divide all aspects of my life with a bold line and even separate the different regions by a river or a mountainous terrain.

“define experience, mark existence, find passion.” says one of the voices.

after seeing the eyes of the lost and broken stare into mine, i find myself right there with them. and i am aware that i am no different from these people i had been surrounded by for ten days, i am no different from the young and the seeking, the old and the rotting, the sad and the violent.

the other voice cries loudly and constantly. the simple sound of sobbing is never comforting, and this voice is seldom quiet.

physical stillness is frightening, limits the possibility of life. and when you’re still it is almost impossible for your eyes not to study the near surroundings. mental stillness might be worse, for someone who is numb to the feeling of peace, stillness could be the subtle kiss of death, whose lipstick stains. strange how i find myself being still, after acknowledging it’s symptoms and experiencing it’s brutality. and here comes another voice;

“you’re driving yourself to insanity.”


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