how tiring it is to fake it until you make it. sometimes you just want to give up and stare up at your bedroom ceiling until the sun yo-yos back up again. darkness and your ears plugged and music washing away your thoughts ... for a while. but then they slip back in, as you spoon your breakfast into your mouth or as you comb your hair. everything returns even when you chase it away. and it feels as though you are stuck in a loop, that you are paralysed within.
you keep stepping on your dreams by accident. shards of them are stuck to your soles. late night ponderings have left you with a sense of certainty in feeling lost. you find comfort in confusion — you feel more alive that way. like you're about to learn something new. you are tired of taking the same route to town every morning. you are tired of still being so young in experience. you are tired of questioning yourself and trying to understand life in its endlessly many forms. things have been looking different since you realised simple things. the light feels brighter, the silence louder. somehow.
a genie in a bottle. trapped in self-induced fear and chasing distractions with more distractions. freedom is not out there, i understand now. freedom is inside you — it is your spiritual nationality, as your heartsbeats are your anthem. let it sing. let your life march to its internal beat. abandon attachments, and, for once, try to look beyond the light. sometimes illusions teach you more about the truth than anything else. and sometimes the wrong tells you more about what is right than the right itself.
7.9.18
