A Piece of My Mind

What is a human?

 Each year that goes by, I grow wiser; years can transfigure my body, but it's in my mind that I see(k) the truthful mutation. Each year that goes by makes me more mature than the year before. Sometimes, I lay back on my bed, close my eyes and memories just appear on the back of my mind, reminding me of someone I once was and a tear almost falls down on my cheek, shy and ashamed, a perfect reflexion of my own soul; I don't recognize myself when I close my eyes, there's this pitch black board and someone's painting with the color of blood, it splashes everywhere, the dash isn't consistent, is irregular, paints whatever it wants whenever it wants and the painter only stops when I'm uncomfortable enough, when my stomach stiffens to a point where my insides turn to the outside, when my heart squeezes like it's about to explode, when I realize what I once was. Inconsistent. Irregular. A child who needed to rest on a lover's arms, to be held tight and cared about. Through repulse and regret, there's this feeling that pats my shoulder and tells me everything is okay, this proud feeling that lets me repulse and regret what I once was, even if I was the day before.

 Each year that goes by, I grow wiser.

 Each day that goes by, I feel more cunning than the day before.

 To live in this paradox must be the cruelest torture anyone ever thought about. To be wiser and wiser until the day you lay down to the ultimate sleep is as useful as a pen who won't write, useful as a memory who lives to torment you, useful as legs who won't walk, useful as a brain who doesn't think, useful as me. In the end, what do I know? I will know nothing, as I know now and as I knew even less yesterday and tomorrow I will know a little bit more of nothing.

 In the end, what do I know? This is not the end. How do you know? Because it ends when I say so.

 How I wish I could live forever and ever, that way I could search for the meaning of everything that exists and ever will exist. To know all the answers to all the questions. To be more than what I can be. To fulfill my potential. To be something else To be wiser. To be immortal. To be finally me. To be free. To live. To be.

 But I'm only a human. What is a human? I don't know. Are you a human? I'm nothing. What do you want? To live. Aren't you living? I'm just not dead. What's the difference? How would I know? So aren't you dead? How would I know? Do you breath? Yes. Isn't that enough? I wish. What would be enough? Freedom. Can you be free? I wish. Would you be complete if you were free? I don't know. Then why do you wanna be free? Illusion. Why not reality? A trap.

 And so I wo(a)nder.

 Maybe someday I will walk my path into immortality.

 But what do I know?



Cover source: deviantart.com