2004-05-19

Failure

Yesterday I was walking home, and it suddenly hit me--in two months it will have been one year since. In two months it will be July.

It doesn't seem to be that long, and the months have dragged by as the physical appearance of the earth changes. Many things remain eerily familiar with the sounds of broken-hearted melodies sung by birds.

Damp afternoons filled with enough pathos to last you and me, and in my memories there are so many winding dirt roads that once led somewhere, but now I struggle to make out their destinations.

And the painful realization--I fear--will always haunt me. Get up! I can't though--what a shame...

I wish someone were to sit down with me and ask me everything that I want, and if such were the case, then I would say the following:

I want to care again

I want to be healthy again

I want to stop crying for no apparent reason.

I wish to stop augmenting the smaller problems and turning them into things more serious than they really are.

I want to be complacent again--no, it's beyond that...I don't just want to be complacent--that's what I am right now. I want to be happy enough to desire change--progression. I want to progress into and through time, I want to be able to close my eyes again and only see one vision:

Just me at Georgetown University, or at Rochester--does it matter?

Philosophy book opened in my lap? The very idea is all too appealing, and it becomes my raison-detra, until you have no more strenghth to continue.

Pitiful, disgusting, shameful, and all possible names to which this situation can be referred to.

Two years ago, there was no such thing as settling--more like ruthless, blind/driven desire, persevere, aggression, and blind hatred...aimed at anything, anyone, nothing in particular. The feeling itself is so amazing, it's what feeds you, what feeds your soul. True passion is not possible sans the bitter flames of hatred.

If my fingers could curl up into a tight fist, I would break through the glass walls of confinement until my hands bleed--I am a martyr in this bitter-sweet world of tempting illusions.

And I swear that I watch myself grow weaker and collapse. Do you know how aggravating it is to fall in love? Do you know how aggravating it is to change? Do you know how utterly shameful it is to break every rule that you once made for yourself?

And I feel this, and I feel this passion--equivalent to--Patrick Henry's plea of "Give me liberty or give me death!"

There is so much--too much, that only a normal human being would be comfortable with. Not I...yet free, I would be a shell--void of meaning, void of life, wandering around aimlessly like some ghost drifting ashore in the morning sunrise.

Please tell me what this is, and what I am supposed to do? When everything that I have ever known, the comforts that once defined and gave meaning and bliss to my very existence, are now washed away in the bottomless ocean of time...life.

The progression of life--and it is a law--that all living things must at one point leave their standstill.

What can I do, I am no one...my mark on this world is weak. I try to find comfort by sipping a Pellegrino and reading...who? Keruoac? De Tocqueville?

Desperately, I aim at finding minimal inspiration from words whose ink has long dried, yet who's spirit still thrives. Closing a book--any book--I realize that my world, the very creation of it is through words. With others it is with numbers, but with mine, it is with words. To be silent is to be dead.

Still, there's a pain, because there's so much. With every palpation of my heart there is this dreadful agony. If you imagine a gloomy palace in which thick fog hangs over--oppressively so--then such is my soul, such is my heart, such is this heavy feeling that I must carry with me. It is like an internal mark upon my bosom--a scarlet letter of disappointment.

There's something that I think about each night--hauntingly so--I wonder about him. Serenity is what he brings me, yet so far away--almost as if--you don't even exist...a sweet character created by me. But yet it is you who take me out of my mindless soul-degrading depression. Yet, what can I do when the person whom I care so much for isn't even by my side?

I certainly hope that Al knows the failure that I am.

aeka at 11:58 a.m.