Again, I have fallen into that pit of self-reflection that is so closely akin to despair. Lost Souls reside there, but neither I nor they can find a connection.
This being the reason why I have felt so off kilter in my reading of 'Tea from an Empty Cup' and my viewing of 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind', seeing as I am far too good at internalizing emotion and reacting in due course. When the virtual life of books and movies takes over, a chill runs down my spine, for books should not deteriorate into such an escape, even if the said escape becomes such as is told in 'All Tomorrow's Parties' or in 'White Light'. Even the barest of stumblings into this world of calm mediocrity pulls at my psyche and has me asking anew the philosophical questions that tear at my mind.
And yet, I am a happy person. And yet, I get so much accomplished. And yet there is so much good in this world.
But the rays of sunshine, so bright, so blinding, do not sometimes penetrate in.
And I am left reeling from the blow that solitude can sometimes make, upon my young weary yet innocent mind.
How canst not I splash my tears upon the pavement on which I rest my feet,
My silent soul be quaking in the embrace of loneliness
And I long for the pain of brick arms
To try to tear me from my dreams
For then I would have some light to strive for
Once more.
Soon I will awake from this waking slumber.
Why must March 30th seem so far away?