Change is inevitable.
Dream is a curse, gifted from those who frolic in heavens. To be free, we need to achieve it. Else, we will be plagued with the realisation that we are unable to make it come true.
Is a dream still a dream when we achieve it?
Is a dreamer still a dreamer when he gets what he wanted?
Will I be someone who has no dream when I achieve my dream?
An awakening in silence. It is cold at the moment. A piece of music floats around this room of mine. The smell of rain permeates through the walls, and I can see the yellow streetlights from the outside of my bedroom window.
If I am to confess all my secrets to the night, will I be free from the guilt, or merely given a temporary relief from it?
I ask questions more than I answer them. I know. Should I be grateful of it, or should I wish for a reboot of my personality?
Again with the questions. I need to stop thinking of more questions. I need to slow down.
Gazing out into the night, bathed under the artificial light from the streetlight, more questions come to me.
Am I enough?
Have I done enough?
Am I refusing, or am I running away?
Thinking of many reasons to refuse, and to shed off the unwanted, ridiculous responsibilities.
I should not do this.
Admonishing myself again and again. I keep on recalling the memories I thought I do not want to keep.
Of those times where I was not myself.
No.
There used to be another me. A part of me that I discovered years ago. Another me that used to be another person, until we agreed to become one.
Figuratively, of course.
Going through each memory, like reading chapters of a book, I try to see the breaking points.
I am trying to justify why I failed.
Is there a need for all these recalling? While painful to watch at times, these memories serve to remind me that I used to have something that is special. A link to another person. A link that kept me safe even though we were far apart.
Why am I still agonising over something that has passed?
Perhaps, it is something that I wished I still have. In this time, where my own world seems to spin out of my control, I need an anchor to keep my feet down.
"It is normal."
I do not see how this is normal. We are shaving a few years off our lifespans just to get approvals from a group of people who probably are ignorant of the condition we are in.
I am adapting to this foreign world of other people, but as of now, I feel exhausted.
Maybe it is an example of survival of the fittest. The ones who cannot cope will be left behind.
The world that I want to be in is not the world that I am being forced into.
