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| <<<>>> |
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A day in the life... |
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| Created by Decius at
| [+ favourites]
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Before I had manipulated my ernest feelings to be normalized I was un-productive. This would explain why I took a year to make this website.
I think it started when I was eighteen years old. I was a normal child before that year, and at the end of it I was truly an adult. 1998, or the fall of it to be more exact.
Music is possibly the one outlet I still have. The one thing that still moves me despite whether I want to be moved or not. Sometimes I listen to the most simple lyrics, but they hold an immensely powerful meaning to me. The melody of a good song amplifies this. I don't think people around me feel what I mean when I tell them what it does to me, although I think they undeerstand it... in a logical manner.
"Step by step... One by one... Higher and Higher..."
Simple. Profound. Has almost made me untimely cry on occasion.
I've never been diagnosed with anything because I don't believe that doctors can help me with anything that isn't purely physical. I've been told I could be depressive, or bipolar, and I'm sure his greedy fingers were itching to write me a prescription. Perhaps he did... it didn't matter to me. I wasn't going to buy mood altering drugs from any type of pharmacist, be it on the street or in a drug store.
Nothing brings me joy. Desire is the one thing I still grasp on. Money and freedom from the things that keep me working are the only driving forces in my life. I have passion, but it is entirely unimportant while I am not free to explore my own inner workings without the worry of money. Sex, also, is of interest but can never be quenched due to completely different reasons. So I focus on money... I focus on my health...
This is a hole. But not a natural one... one created to prevent you from escaping. It is a trap. I may feel like I am on top of a mountain at times, but it is the times when I am in the gutter that remain in my mind. A hurt always makes more of an imprint than a smile. That's nature, and over the years I have begun to collect more and more memories of hurt, with all the median smiles fading into the background.
Every single day I explore some new possible source of joy, but I find absolutely no fulfillment. Everything is a method of distraction... escape. It is just better than being depressed, but not better than being indifferent.
We go out and eat... we watch the hockey games... we watch the movies and are entertained. We dance, we drink, we laugh and hug and say we love. But then we come home, and alone in our silence we don't smile. We don't dance, we don't feel entertained. We have all the methods of entertainment, but we are not entertained. Perhaps we act with each other to fool ourselves that everything is okay. Perhaps it is just easier when others do it too. No one seeks to acknowledge our absolute lack of interest in our own lives.
I know everyone is like me in the way that silence is rarely soothing. People may not agree that loneliness is their biggest fear, but in fact it is. The fear of thought. The fear of realization. The fear of having to change.
So I stare at my innocent mouse... my beautifully busy mouse. He builds himself a beautiful little house. The first day i got him he built a hut out of newspaper. And he moved it into his coconut for solitude just two days later. As I try to sleep with my eyes wide open I hear him meddling. Knowing he is driving for a better life is highly settling.
Innocence amazed me still. Perhaps the one true emotion I can still feel is regret. Regret for losing myself through the hurts in time. Yet here is my mouse who happily builds his house, and loves me for caging him. He stares at me and lets me scratch his head. And I hate so much and so many people for so many things.
Romance. Hope. Love. Laughter. Stars.
"All lost forever, like tears in the rain." |
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| Created by Decius at
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