Again.
Again.
Again.
You wake up.
You wake up.
You wake up.
It's all the same.
It's all the same.
It's all the same.
Do you try to break free?
Free.
Free.
Of course you do, you do something different, you explore a different area, you read something new. You do so much, yet so little. Time goes and every time you think you've finally given yourself something new, something to break up the monotony.
You realise you've been here before, it's the same.
The same.
The same.
If only you could make sweeping changes, wake up in a new location, see someone new, rekindle flames you let expire. To see beyond what you regret so desperately about your life.
Your life.
Your life.
Your life.
It's nobody else’s to ruin, nobody else’s to save. Yet you keep waiting, and waiting, for what? Yourself to catch up? For someone else to start the engine?
The engine.
The engine.
Blue light can only show you so much joy, nature can only show you so much. Wonder can only protect you for so long.
So long.
So long.
That's what this is, a sense of longing. More but nothing, less but everything. No matter how far you think you've gone, no matter how satisfied you should be. You are never, you will never be.
Never.
Never.
You've drowned, you've soared, you've done both at the same time. Every time one happens, you think of the other. Being happy must always have the knife in the back, being sad must always have that spark to keep going.
Keep going.
Keep going.
So why? Why are you like this? Will there ever be an answer for such a thing? Even as you ponder now, as you pondered then. You go back and forth, tugging at one extreme while greeting yourself in the mirror tugging the other. Yet still, wouldn't that put you in balance?
In balance.
In balance.
In a way, living life like this is balanced. That's how everyone else tells you to live. Good, bad, good, bad, nothing joyful can be worth it without negativity.
Negativity.
But it still sucks, every time you put your heart out there, throw it to the cosmos. That even if people like it, even if you like it, that it won't stay that way for long.
Long.
Long.
Living this way isn't fun, yet so vastly universal that everyone copes. Is that just part of life? To accept that you will never be able to stay happy about something? Even if it was your best, even if its still your best?
Best.
As the sky gets darker that’s all that matters, you've done it, you've lived it. You've succeeded. The words shouldn't matter, the words don't matter if you let that be the case. Everything's in your head, that's the scary part. There's nothing tangible, nothing you can blame.
Blame.
Blame.
No satisfying conclusion, no fanfare at the end of these thoughts. Just life.
That's all there is to it.
To repeat and to echo the same sentiment until the cave collapses.
Collapses.
Collapses.
15 likes from Sykeeeeee8, NakkoMinju, bunn | 般若, PinkBlood, Battoussaaii, JewelFall, mascarponny, rai_, rakkomonsieur, Spapop, FromIris, AnonymousANT, JoseAlejandro, kiki, and Prael.