Angry Randomness

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.