Mental diaries — 1
a series of mental diaries of an imaginary guy…
It comes about quite often that no matter how sleepy one gets, one still isn’t totally oblivious. The more relaxed (if you don’t fancy sleepy) one is, the sharper also. I’m not making a generalization, yet I don’t have anything scientific to back it up. One can see around and find many people being more cautious than they’d usually be while they’re sleepy.
What am I trying to prove? It all comes down to being active in this world. It all comes down to absorbing so much you feel like you’re going to explode… ANY TIME NOW! It is a bothersome endeavor, learning; for we are not running out of things to learn, not in a thousand years, but are constantly consuming more and more, not knowing whether it’s going at the right place. Yes… you need the right place *and* the right time. Do we have the right time?
It’s one thing to live up to other’s expectations, which I admire given some conditions: i) one should never be subjected to mockery. ii) one’s failures should be appreciated. iii) one’s boundaries be respected and comforts and discomforts, prudently understood!
You might say it’s some idealist clap-trap, quite impossible to expect or achieve from others in our times. They’re hasty, impulsive, rotten, wicked, shot by the fires of time that once travel here on this rounding earth and once are on those fiery endeavors where nothing seems to go by smoothly, let alone slowly… especially as they should. Sometimes those bullets of time hit one rock in space… there, another! They can’t seem to slow down, nothing can! For they’re plucked like the vilest chime that rings for eternity. Everywhere.
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I want you to make sense!
No, dear. Don’t expect anything sensical or sensible from me. I’m shackled and my chains rattle and I’ve gone mad. So sad, isn’t it? To see a lunatic ramble on. I tremble at my own thoughts. You can’t see it? It’s alright. You’re not supposed to. You’re *never* supposed to.
You suppose it’s easier to just talk nonsense and convince the reader of the profundity of your thoughts? These are no thoughts, darling. These are not profound. These have no meaning, nothing to prove or disprove. I’ll go on… rough as it would seem. I’m here telling of the world from my own lens, call it tarnished by the age or the devil… but I say it’s been tarnished by the dust of God, which sways over our minds in his existence and non-existence. He corrupts my mind both as a concept and as an actual entity. Now, go again: I’m supposed to derive my morals from something (someone) so absurd?
I ask you, darling, to charm me with your looks and sway me over to your place. Let us drink a cup of coffee to the absurdity of all this… which we simultaneously enjoy and loathe. Read me now, sehen sie mich! Be my dear Dr. Tenma. See if you can stop Mr. Fahrenheit from exploding and using fancy words all the while!
Look out!
