disharmony

i feel as if i am entering some void in which i know not whether i should continue to dwell in out of reluctance to meet the demands of the outside. they call this being avoidant, of being fearful of things you do not know its consequences (but nevertheless deep inside you do know things will pan out to be okay anyway – what great trials await a twenty one year old in this twenty first century anyway? nothing – and everything at the same time)

yet i continue to dream of unspeakable heights which i know (at this rate) i shall never be able set foot of. this is because laziness always set in at every hour that to see to witness to perform a minute of genuine work would be a miracle , or perhaps i am allowing myself being assailed from every direction that i am simply at lost, stunted, unable to move. the next obvious thing to do is to naturally remove these so called distractions, which are just, essentially petty and inconsequential in itself that it is shameful to even to speak of them.

the problem however arises when these things are the very things that used to move you that used to
constitute a definite part of your being, so embedded they are that you cannot just dispense them entirely. so much that you’d rather play false, say false things, be false characters, speak with false enthusiasm, intonation. what’s worse is that these are not false at all, in fact, they are the correct (the sensible, the norm) way things are supposed to be conducted.  so there you have a hypocrite. a disharmony between aim and character (heart, desire?).

*

this is my stop. i must go to work now. am going to finish the last twenty pages of Jose Saramago’s The Elephant’s Journey. then continue his Blindness, reading Rilke and Salome’s letters in between. one of these days i need to go to the bookstore and buy myself  Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running and a Pamuk’s My Name is Red.

goodbye.