I often find myself lying here, on this deserted beach. Here, buried among the iridescent sea-shells, I can be myself. The scared child who cannot reconcile with the adult I have become is free to smile and run under the resin sun. Somehow, being free is much more imprisoning than one can even think of. Human contact is what I have always dreaded and now, when I am tearing my soul in two just for a moment of freedom, when I am the picture of sorrow and indifference, I am perceiving the tremendous experience of humanity. I am all my ancestors and all those who will be, tearing, gnawing, wanting everything my being has to give. Pure hatred is what I feel for my ancestors, for allowing me to become who I am and an infinite pity is what I give to my descendants, for they will bear the memory of me, the feeling of utter loneliness engraved in my essence.
Upon this beach I had layed all my longing for a companion, for a part of my suffering reflected in another human. But could I hope for this salvation? The sea is me, the beach is me. Whenever the world grows tired of me, I find my solace buried deep into the fine sand. My toes sink in it and the minuscule grains graze my skin, embedding their carbon souls into my flesh. The salty breeze sprays my unshed tears towards the sky, bruised by dark clouds, towards a god I no longer believe in. How can I believe in him when he allows me to wallow my grief, my desperation and just stands there, motionless, with a crude smile on his seemingly kind face? So I choose the easy path. But how are we going to live forever if we kill eachother? Nonsense, wherever I look I find myself, shattered in the chilling water, pulled apart by the merciless waves. I am a multitude of selves, children and babies and adults, all screaming for air, light and compassion. Hush, sleep! I am still one.
marți, 26 februarie 2013
marți, 19 februarie 2013
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