Without beauty

I have been staring at this page for too long and i can’t seem to put my thoughts into any beautiful words. I have run dry. I step into new lands and i adapt with little effort, shows how detached i already am as an individual. I can easily slide through doors and avoid crashes; except i can never survive my own. I lurk inside my walls and i find the shame in breaking apart too tragic. Still as i write, i find no meaning here, i seem to have lost it somewhere along the way. I am disconnected with my self, i am breathing i am alive but i am aimlessly wandering the margins of my truths.

I have my questions, they are so clear, but i have no answers. I dwell inside memories and repressed longings. I know i have not given enough to anyone or to anything. I never gave much of myself honestly. I always held back and i still do, never falling into anything fully. I dip my interest and then back out, i tiptoe around emotions and i underline thoughts that i enjoy; except i am out of every frame. I observe how life swings and i impress myself with my lack of involvement.

I might not be deserving of the love i dream of, because i never gave much of anything back. I take, i am a taker, a receiver, i fear giving for i can lose myself so easily. I decided not to be passive anymore, and it has changed how my days have evolved drastically; yet i am still passive deep down, with my own self. I cannot find that pretty little flame. I do laugh, i do cry, i do feel and i think; then think and keep on thinking until my mind begs for quiet. And so i run to the music, i rush into that world and drown every troubled nerve with some one else’s lyrics.

I am not close to myself, and i miss the love i felt deep inside. The love that needed no refuge and no excuse. the love that required no attention and no justification. I miss the surrender of humanity into sheer consciousness and plain solitude. I miss the love for my mind and the clarity of my intentions. I no longer know, i cannot decipher my actions like i used to. I was my own little expert, and now i sold my sanity to doubt.

Maybe living tastes like this. Maybe truth resonates when we lose touch and it takes its best shot at us. It crashes our eternal hopes and it ambushes our expectations. Truth will blindfold us and bring us to our knees, not because it enjoys it but because we only know who we are during our miserable moments. We live in contrast and contradictions, we perceive opposites and inequalities. So truth is true and it has learned to speak the language only we understand.

Nobody loves misery.

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