romglish

Where is my life gone?

I have decided to throw it all away. I
realised this too late, so now I am waking up to the rank reality of
having to claw it all back by letting it go.

The sudden shock of realising that
every philosophy you painstakingly built piece by piece through the
pain of the trial and the error to make the wrong things right has to
be flipped inside out once wrong reaches right for just a split
second, because it’s like a pendulum and once it reaches one extreme,
it must swing back the other way. So you’re left with the task of
smashing your crystal cocoon into a million shards, at the same time
you topple the whole house of cards. Strike the match and set fire to
the curtains in the morning so you can see the sunbeams shining
through your window in the morning.

Everybody has a front. A
front that they are different than everyone else, that they are
somehow ‘unique’. But their thoughts are like well beaten paths, they
tread down them and feel like they are somewhere new because they
have not been there before, yet the ground beneath their feet has
long been battered by the rugged soles of wizened travellers. They
were naïve once too. But you in your fresh innocence are the
flavour of the hour, your rosy cheeks building imaginary landscapes
across the canvas with swift strokes of your brush. And then you
start to see the colours fade and lose their sparkle, settling into
grey. And you realise the bones and meat that are is just a floating
marionette in the machine-like theatre of life in contribution to
society, and the weekend becomes your release and chance to feel
alive. And you grab it with both hands and shake your stuff until the
sweat cakes on your forehead along with all the chemicals and uneasy
sentiments. For a second you have escaped orbit. Cheated the forces
of gravity.