Tuesday, 21 April 2015

Spontaneous Reflections

Life. work. Obligation. Commitment. Relationships gone downhill. There hovers over me a thick smoggy cloud. Let it rain already. Or let it linger but for God's sake let it change its color. Grey cannot seem to decide between black and white. Grey is what happens when the unidentified merge together. What keeps us living? What is purpose? Lest it be a failed illusive attempt at masking our guilt for all that befalls humanity- or worse- our true desires to benefit our egos and make people love us. I want no one to love me sometimes. That means commitment and commitment means disappointment. It's a scary thought when you have become accustomed to people letting go and not staying true. So we put up walls. Strangely enough, if we talk you might be able to catch me every once in a while dig deep into myself and give something within away to what surrounds me. If you can catch me in those moments, we ought to be the best of friends. If you fail to see it, then I will slowly bring myself up to the shallow surface and part of me may never swim down again for you. I know that might offend some people. Now you know why I can't do commitment. I usually offend some people. Sometimes I sit and ponder the beauty of my past. The good fortune I had. In a desperate attempt to somehow relive it or consolidate myself that what is yet to come will be just as good maybe. But I stop myself. Far too early before I am deep into the memories and not yet enough for it to be a flashback. I feel there is no limit to how far I can imagine something. If I unleash that part of me, I may opt for a sedentary life replacing the real with the imaginary. I long for the days we watched cartoons of innocence. Young women picking flowers, talking to animals and singing. Their story is only about struggle with a harsh world that doesn't treat them delicately as they should be treated. Sometimes I feel that woman lives inside me. I really like her. And I like her company but she looks sad. When she is sad I am trying to please the world. The world is never pleased. I feel the need to write until the end of the page. But I know the page doesn't end. Why do I feel that way? Have I obligated myself to this? What other things do I obligate myself to and not know it. I long for the company of so many people of my past. Yet part of me feels that even if I was somehow able to have them summoned for me, that they won't fill the void in my heart. They say God only does and I believe them. God looks upon you with mercy and He engulfs your presence and protects you from harm. It is still a lonely life. I fear it will always be. I seem to know these days what I do not desire much more than what I do. This confuses me. I seem to be confused most of the time. They say it is temporary what you feel. But I have been feeling like a storm for ages now. Storms are supposed to settle. Settle and find a calm place. But maybe I am a storm meant to settle only in relative proportions. My storm today is calmer than yesterdays. Patience. Make peace with your storm regardless if the calm is on the way. Let it obliterate whatever is in its path as you are a wild and dangerous phenomenon not everyone knows how to understand or love. So love yourself before the storm multiplies and asserts its existence. Take it by its eye and tell it you love it.  I love my storms. Because it means something in me still lives and yearns for peace. It means I am alive.