What a year it's been.
I once had it all figured out, had the world at my feet but now I just feel old.
Day after day, week into week, waiting in line for things to come or just wondering when they'll be complete.
I have made so many choices that have not been easy, as we all have in some point in our lives, but yet some have made me realize just how valuable and important all the bullshit seems to be, as trivial and pathetic as it can be at the time of pursuit. It's a strange feeling to have, when certain experiences, should you ever be left with your thoughts and some time to reflect, all come crashing down around you in such a deafening silence that your thought path reaches the precipice of maddening crevices or exhilarating exaltations of discovery. I can't really say that I'm accustomed to this.
How many times can you shout at the heavens that someone isn't right for you?
How many times can you run away from a problem because you don't want to deal with it, before there's nothing left and nowhere to go? I guess you could say that I've fallen short in exhausting options.
Can we talk?
Will we ever again?
Does it matter?
When do you realise that you need someone? Or the moment you never did at all?
When do you realise when your meeting with someone will be your last?
When do you stop feeling young at heart and become old and empty?
Am I alive, or just living?
When do you stop listening to the voices in your head and let your heart take over, if not for love and passion?
When do you know when to continue fighting, and to stop the fight altogether?
How far can you run before you can't see what's in front of you and the destination isn't in sight, like you've slipped through time?
Can you look in the mirror and be happy with yourself, as a result of what is seen infront of you aligning and matches what's within?
Can you be honest in the realisation of unknown, nonchalantly uncaring? Does it matter??
How long does it take before you can you change the pain of loss into memories of gain?
This year has been nothing but a paper bag in the wind, and as a result, I'm floating along with it.
I don't know where I'm going, who I'll meet and how long the connection will last, or even if it will form at all.
I don't know if I want to connect with anything or anyone, but yet I enjoy the times where someone wishes to connect with me, however short or long that time may seem, and sometimes mere minutes feel like forever, sometimes they go too fast.
I used to know all these things, but now, I know nothing but memories of what was, who felt and why things were done.
And I have no idea where I will go from here.
But I have a glimmer of hope that paradise exists, still as I remember.
I'll find it.