Capricious

29 - Sour Diesel Waves

"The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious - the fundamental emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science."
- Albert Einstein

It is a constant series of battles. Fighting into a group, the dynamics that stand, finding your place within it. Then having it scattered, to fight again in entirely new dynamics. While time is irrelevant against experience, do not tell the devil that, for he will make you doubt your all. It's all too much for me to bear. A resounding struggle, a masochistic environment, perhaps too daring at that. I can only give so much before I can no longer, for no one gives to me.

I'm feeding up through passions, finding them, testing them, appreciating them. Letting them run free across my mind as they do from the tip of their tongue or the game they play. Simply because it's beautiful.

Without realising, doing these things, so force of habit. They become the basis, building your automatic persona, so you can live more in the moment. Slowly accumulating all new feelings, new experiences. Finding their way into the depths of your soul, used to symbolise your very being.

You have to move from known to known, jumping to and fro them. Then diving into others hoping to find something you seek. Or using that which is known to break into other worlds entirely.

A series of waves. Trippy, then social, then reflecting. Waking up in different worlds as they carry me upstream, to the end of the night and fair sleep's delight. Slightly mystical all the while.

But each is a challenge, a game of chess, playing my own upon the situation, weighing it upon yours, hoping something will reflect, some small experience, or some life long struggle.

So where does it become serious? Where does the weirdness stop being funny and start becoming who I am. I adapted to their world by covering my weirdness up with humour, to the point my first impression feels like I'm making fun, but I'm not, this is how I am. I change to you, resembling a self so very different to everyone else. And so I am the weird thing, my true self so far from the average, however egalitarian or Darwinian we are. I'm not where I belong, but my degree of adapting has taken its toll, it has inflicted something upon me. A sense of righteousness, and a capricious mind.

Randomness, I love it. The totally wild and unexpected, anything that my capacity did not already hold. To not even know what I'm looking for.

It's just a bare series of minutes delay from several selves. My trippy solitude, my rushing extravagance, my serious politics, my blooming ideals. Spinning back and forth, and go within and without myself.

It can all get too much. Pauses of reflection required minutes through hours or days through weeks.

It's only in such privileged environments that every strike of originality is defined as weirdness, where every seemingly irrational choice is classified as foolishness. Whereas in this, loose creativity is prided, it is passion, not vice. I haven't experienced such a place in a very long time.

Yet all the time subjected to an irregular warning of manic, echoing proportion, screaming like dripping wax, burning through my mind's temporary armour forged by a lack of repercussion. I collapse into quarantine, the detrimental, life-threatening fear that I am conspired against, that I am disliked, misunderstood, not accepted. I instigate nothing, my actions bent by a raging conflict of different lives, I can't just do. Do you hate me because of that? Do I impose, offend, am I pathetically arrogant and self-centred? I fear to be what I don't want to be, knowing there is something in what I am, what I mean, what I do. Just knowing no one will ever come close to ever understanding a thing.

I like people who are passionate about something, that wish to share that passion with you, people that are individuals, that aren't afraid to break from the mould and be their own person. I like originality, those that think and feel, and most of all, I love it when they're crazy like me.

I seem to be coming in waves, bouncing back and forth, a double-ended bungee springing towards reality and then back into the clouds. The sides of times ago all reflected now within a single day. I am rocky, I am loose. Fierce day dreams followed by smooth talks followed by nothingness. All too much to handle. I am armed and ready to explode. It is only my intoxicated friends that seem to be keeping me from falling off the edge just yet.