All of what they talk about, all day, all night, all the times, they're all nonsense to me, they're all so trivial that I cease to talk at all.
I used to be more fun as I remember, I used to not let my mouth shut, but c'mon that's when I talk about space,, but now, there is no space, there is no talks.
"Sometimes people talk when they cease to be at peace with their thoughts, but there are those who have the truth within them, only they tell it not in words.
In the heart of these, the spirit dwells in rhythmic silence" Khalil Gibran
I now think Gibran is mistaken, highly mistaken as I do not talk and yet I have no peace with my thoughts at all.
They say that only now that I don't speak they also are mistaken, for as long as I remember I've been receiving more than I ever gave, I was receiving talks and stories and complaints and opinions from everyone more than what I have ever let out.
But they only notice now, only now do they notice,,, only now.
Maybe I do want to join the conversation and share and talk, but I always feel like I want to be pulled into it, I always feel like I want someone to push me, but nobody does, so I stay where I am.
I'm still waiting for the something that will create the desire within me to act without being pushed.
YOU ARE READING
The diary of the unstable
РазноеI write here without thinking twice, I write here the scattered, the unknown to many,,,,, the unstable. I don't expect you to understand anything, I don't expect you to find it pleasant nor funny nor inspiring nor even beautiful. I didn't care to mo...
