Deadlines

Hurry up mr. student.
Time is ticking, the pressure is rising.
Odd enough, the pressure tends to make me work harder to achieve my goal.
It does not matter that i have a thousand days to deal with my situations, i rarely do not solve them when the time is dreadful close to its end.

What it is about this pressure that is so necessary to have me produce what needs to be done, even though I hate the fact that I am being pressured. But somehow, I am able to do it.
This drives other people crazy, and I think it is not healthy for me.
I wish I could work without coming so close to the dreaded deadlines.

No magic here, only wishful thinking. It does not mean that anything will change.
In fact the only thing that changes is the time to the deadline. It just become shorter! Again!

There are places I will remember all my life

"There are places I'll remember all my life!
Some remain, not forever and some are gone"

To live is to experience.
To those in pain, it must be rather difficult to grasp this concept.
Because pain is such a powerful and disturbing experience that seldom leaves any room for any interpretation other than pain itself.
But believe me that pain is also part of the experience. Through pain we learn that fire can harm and that spikes pinch our skin and that hunger is a slow pain that grows within calling for the self perservation of the one experiencing it.

Fortunately, the world is not made up of feelings such as pain, but instead it is filled with a vast amount of possibilities to experience. Some quite brief others seemingly eternal.
We do not need to move far to experience the wonder of the experience of being alive.
At times, all it takes is to walk on our neighbourhood and try to count to amount of smells, colours, sounds, touches we will encounter.
I guess the most troubling thought of all, is to assume that we take all this for granted.

The experience implies two things:
First the object, person, place, moment must exist or occur or be present
Secondly, we too must be there. It will not matter if it occurs and there is no one there to experience it.

To assume that all that is, will exist forever, is to blindly ignore the value of the uniqueness of each moment.
I accept that somethings will be bad while others will be good.
I will not deny that the relationship of good and bad will depend on the point of view.
After all, everything is relative.
A breakup must be a grief for a person and a relief for another.
A death might be the grief for those that experience the loss, but it may just be the final consequence of being alive which in the relieves us all, with a unique perspective story to tell.

Because it is uncertain if we ever get a second chance to come around, it is best to assume that this time now, is unique and we should make the best of it, with what seems fit. - If I want to read, let me read, if i want to sleep, let me sleep, if i want to experience the grief of a long lost love, let me dwell on the inspired loss of said grief. All is granted, as long as it harms no one. Society does not appreciate that.
But we should not live on just what society expect us to do. After all, societies evolve and they are made by the unique creatures that at a given moment are there to tell the tale.

I will rest now, with the fair conscience that i am doing my best to enjoy my stay here, with you.
I am far too lucky to have been granted the plethora of feelings.
The pains and the rewards
For all that is worth, they make me more human. Nor better nor worse. I evolve just as I have to and hopefully along the way, I too can be a unique experience for you, as undoubtly you are to me.

Some memories

I wish upon myself, to rid of my personal demons.
It is not fair to others that I prey on their souls due to constant insatisfaction of my weiry ill conceptions of the world.

The people that I am attracted to do not have to love me.
I should not get the respect I think I deserve, just because I want to.
Life is far more interesting when I am involved, but it can be interesting if I do not force myself to pay attention.

Door

It is a common brown door.
I would guess that it would measure 2,20 meters high by 80 centimeters with 3,5 centimers depth.
with uneven somewhat parallell dark brown lines the door has a symetrical knob on both faces.
They have a combination of cupper and nikel, having seen one too many hands

Words never spoken, paroles jamais lu

The mother of my friend died.
The prolongued wait is over. The grimm fate has now become the ultimate relief during these last moments of grief.
Little do we know of the loss our origins. Perchance they remind us of our own mortality and thus how close our end is.
I have little or no words to share on these occasions.
The hypochrisy of offering any consolation is of little use to those who are in dire times.
I wish I had more inspired words.
Words that somehow could find their way into a thirsty soul and provide a new map to the richest river within.
I too long to hear these words.

A love that never was

I am mad about love.
I am mad to love those that do not deserve or clearly do not long for my presence in their lives.
And yet, my love is there to give.
The focus of such love is painful to find a harsh iron door that stands between me and a desired fate that never was.
What words could possibly unlock that door?
What comfort could I give that would put me in a better light than before!
Granted that my words, thus far have only caused chaos, confusion and fear.
And my actions have only proven a weakness that I am too ashamed to admit, but to which I cannot ignore.
I am not a ill or crazy person.
I just had a lot of bad luck with my love life.
I guess I go to deep for a prize that is not there.
It is frustrating however, to visit the same feelings over and over again.

I wish I had the courage to come up to you and inspired say to you all the passion and frustration that comes from my heart.
The passion of seeing you day after day after day, and every day having to realize that it is not to be.
I wish I was stronger and would not sucumb to the feeling of rejection, I always do.
I wish I was not a coward that would hide behind words and jokes only to receive the prizes the cowards deserve, oblivion.

I wish I had the chance and I could use it to prove that I deserve more than what you are willing to give.
I wish I could come into your world and rebuild a bridge between us.
I am tired of being mad about you.
I am tired of being meaningless to you, as transparent as a glass, as insubstantial as the hot air, as pointless as a sphere.
I wish I could make you smile a true smile.

But I have learned that we cannot change the fate.
And all that I do, is remind you of the wackyness of strangers, that deserve no respect
And all that I am is a fool in love with the painting of you in my mind.

Be well, wherever you are.

Insubstantial padgent faded

Thursday evening.
I guess, I am one too many times consumed by remorse.
A remorse that know no bounderies or relates too no actions.
Perchance it is a guilt of a sinful character driven from an ill perception of a faded view of a once too perfect world that was to be replaced for a now too real world.
Tiring as it may seem, this the reality that leads me to cope with the world.
I have friends, but they seem far, even in the room.
I have family, but I can't really relate.
I have a home, but I really don't nurture it
I have a life, but I roam through it as a ship without a course, carried by an ill wind that leads me to unknown lands.
I aspire to be the best, but I do it always in comparaison.
I am too lazy to overcome my flaws.
I am too weak to actually care for who am I.
They are too busy to hear me speak about this ill perspetives but every now and again I am tormented by them.

No really problem taunts me, but I dread the scent of life
No really curse is laid down on me, but I live in the shadow of giants.
I wish I could be brave enough to change, rather than the greedy man that looks to the neighbours gold.
It is not any precious metal I am after, but I guess I have no real clue of what it is I aspire.

The love of people comes to me in many forms, but I am sick
I lay myself low.
"Lay your hands on me"
I feel lonely in the croweded city.
There is no true substance.
Tomorrow I will witness the theatre alone, out of 8 people, all of them had higher responsibilities to bare.
All of them have valid reasons.
The disease comes from thinking, that myself, I am not a valid reason.
Oh certain as there is a rabbit hole, i feel that I am sinking lower and lower, only to aspire one day to arrive to my home.
My home were my sanity lives.
My home will accept me
My home will be the happiest vessel where my soul can lay its grief and return purified.
So I write over and over and over with grief always feeling that I am the poor soul that no one gives a them
I am so tired
Emotionally
the carnival is over
it has been over for a long time
a pangent faded
no road, nowhere.
I lay here beneath these sheets of comfort burying my lovely.