There is a severe icy gap inside, which, now you are certain
will never be fulfilled, no matter where you are, what you do and who you are
surrounded with. It’s fate, disguised in your character to be as close to you as
possible, to smirk when you live through hardships and to be proud when you are
somewhere upper your limits.
Yet, you feel like a 16-year-old again, full of mistrust, resentment
and hopeless transparency, not even angry, but furious as you refuse to take the
fact that what you strive for never exists in this one of the worlds. It is
medieval mummer’s farce, where to keep your individuality you need to be
faceless and locked inside yourself, and “to be happy” is an expression from
childhood fantasy book. It means to experience joy and feel content for a lengthy
period of time. That is - almost always.
The system closes on you, blurring your perception of the
time waves, and one day you just open your eyes and feel as if half of your
life has passed and what you have done is naught: a couple of degrees, some
fixed assets, nice family and friends, a beloved one if you are lucky. Yet in
an instance people come and go, and the summer rain washes off all the bad
memories, like pale milky spots from the window glass. Is this all what you
wanted? The molecular dreams and aspirations, fed on stereotypes and common
values, which are not to be questioned… ? And even those, who dare break it,
are they better, calmer or maybe madder, than you are?
What if all the standard mindset is a madman’s raving? Artificial,
skillful and with steady roots deadly embracing your brain? Its grasp is so
firm, that you will never doubt it’s the one and only righteousness, you will
never detour.
There is something missing in there, something that makes you feel as if you live in a dream,
which goes on from a fairy tale to a nightmare and the vice versa. You just cannot
wake up, while the life passes by. The restlessness grows overwhelmingly, and
what you stubbornly fight for (in your
dreams?) turns into worthless trifle the second after its yours.
And then what you want is to crawl out of your routine like
a cat, turn your face to the sun and absorb its motherly warmth. You want to
burn all the worldly mundane from your skin, color your eyelashes with the unbearable lightness of being and
drown yourself in peace.
Cuz nothing else is left to make you feel sincerely alive. Nothing
else, except for the day’s crimson anger.
The rest is duty.
Welcome back.
