Life sure seems like a long journey. But if I step aside and look at it as an outsider, I see I've only run around a circle all my life. Chasing. Suffering. Condemning. Believing. Seeking. Celebrating. The objects change but the game persists. The desire to fill up the void within manifests itself into different forms. The longing for love. The passion to conquer. The inclination towards a faith or ideology. The return to intoxication. The satisfaction from acting morally or bringing a societal change. The attachment to an identity that I call 'me'. I subconsciously produce these coverups but nothing truly brings fulfillment. The closest I get to happiness is by reinforcing the belief that I am happy (because my life is perfect) and by brutally murdering the negative emotions. But these solutions are short-lived. And I've cheated myself repeatedly, subconsciously always knowing that something isn't fine. That the fulfillment has just not been there. That it is no where on the horizon.
Clueless, helpless I continue to run around the circle of hope and despair. Not like a particle that, bound by laws, revolves around a nucleus. I move like an anarchist. Chasing not an ambition. Following not an ideology. Acting not to fulfill my desires. Not knowing the point of doing this or that. Amused by the meaningless conviction of those around me. But also by my own absurdity.
Clueless, helpless I continue to run around the circle of hope and despair. Not like a particle that, bound by laws, revolves around a nucleus. I move like an anarchist. Chasing not an ambition. Following not an ideology. Acting not to fulfill my desires. Not knowing the point of doing this or that. Amused by the meaningless conviction of those around me. But also by my own absurdity.
