Not quite there

Sometimes it gets a little complicated. It seemed as though everything was going your way, but then it really isn’t. Then there are certain situations where you feel like you could grasp the concept of it when in reality you’re quietly slipping away into oblivion. 

And sometimes your mind is there, in sync with the world. But the truth Is, everything Is just a flashing black and white. 

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I could feel myself slipping in and out of the world. The line between reality and dreams slowly blurred. I couldn’t even tell if I was in a waking dream or a sleeping reality. Days eventually became hours and everything was just a bundle of confusion. 

I’m practically living in my own world but I can barely feel it. I’m here with the rest of the world, but my soul isn’t quite there yet. 

The world and I, we are just parallel lines. Running alongside each other, but never really touching. Not even the closest bit. 

It’s just my head in the clouds, and wondering what I’m actually doing with my own life. It just so happens that the fantasies keeping me awake are making me asleep in reality. Everything was a switch, and I couldn’t find a way to turn it back on. 

Eventually, it’s just the world and me. Hanging on to a fine line, wondering when it did snap. It just feels like I’m walking on an endless path with no clear goal, no clear ending. It’s just sweeping wind, it has no limits and endless liberty— except I’m held captive in the middle of no where.

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Relationships with humans didn’t seem to exist. It was an error 404, and I wasn’t feeling the mood to recreate any of the connections. It was all different faces, different emotions and different personalities tailored to the different group of people. 

I’m not my own self, and I can’t seem to remember my own self. 

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Feelings for another comes and goes like the waves. Sometimes it drown itself out, sometimes it floats with the waves. It just brings itself out of my sight, slipping right through my fingers and it reaches a whole new depth. 

Incoherent and simply out of reach. 

And I could keep running, but it would be no end. 

And I’m tired, simply drained. Body tattered and beaten with lethargy. 

My physical body was a prize of it’s own.

And my soul was just bruised and jagged. Simply fragmented and distorted. No clear lines, just waves and waves and amplitudes of endless solitude.

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But I guess we all feel it sometimes. A little lost in life, a little parched, a little breathless and gasping for air. We all feel it, simply falling onto the ground, completely surrendering to the cold joke of life. 

And I guess we all feel like retiring. Being a protagonist of your own story is taxing, except for most times there was no clear plot. Just running back to the same point and getting back up and running. 

It could be an endless round or an eternal straight line. 

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Perhaps everyone else in the world is being tormented by the same question. Being torn down and shredded apart by the endless streams of not quite there. 

So I’ll keep guessing, in these series of trial and errors. In the midst of my mistakes, I’ll crawl out of this abysmal black hole. Who knows? I might find my own way back into a world where everything finally makes sense. 

Life is just a series of falling and rising and falling. It’s the same everyday but that keeps it exciting.

A little drowned,
grumpebi xx