I realized that I forgot what love feels like, and I intend to keep it that way. Specifically, I realized that it's more of the loving others part that I'm starting to forget, and I think I need to keep it that way for a while. I try not to remember the life that I didn't want to lose but lost and have to remember. It used to fill my heart with so much joy, even if the joy wasn't mine. But with that life, my life story was happening faster than my life. Just as it is, a friction began to arise between Nothing and Something, in the morning the Nothing vase cast a Something shadow, like the memory of someone you've lost, what can you say about that, at night the Nothing light from the guest room spilled under the Nothing door and stained the Something hallway, there's nothing to say. It's true, it became difficult to navigate from Something to Something without accidentally walking through Nothing. In the middle of all of this inevitable mixing of Nothing and Something, you still find the need to disappear in the middle of everything, Something, because I was more alone than if I had been alone.
I had company because I can be the company and not so much the other way around. Was it ever the other way around?
I get heavy boots, too, Oskar. But I can't change the Sahara Desert.
I am no long waiting. Everything's different, and there's enough Nothing already and it's impossible to go through the day without a train of thought of Something not involving Nothing.
I'm going to start loving myself and myself only. I'm going to make myself things and not always others. I'm bitter, and colder, but I'm also stronger.
I'm gonna be better to myself.
I felt, that night, [...] incredibly close to everything in the universe, but also extremely alone. I wondered, for the first time, if life was worth all the work it took to live. What exactly made it worth it? What's so horrible about being dead forever, and not feeling anything, and not even dreaming? What's so great about feeling and dreaming?
No comments:
Post a Comment