sunset.
At home on a friday night, stood up by my dad. Sigh. Feeling all tired from a full day of walking about town, yet still begrudging the locked-in time. Feeling lousy, feeling blue. Times like this when you need a nice chilled class of white and some autumn breeze...
Morose.
Feeling all alone in a crowd. Cut off from the main flow, slowly drying up, shriveled and sad. Why? Beats me.
Perhaps it is PLC, this meaningless period that sapped all life out of me. Or perhaps it is the state of the market, in its all time bearishness, where even bonds have failed. Perhaps.
Change.
I have changed. So much, yet so gradual. Looking back, I have become a totally different person. I wonder if the old me would have hated the new. I wonder which is the old, and which is really the new. Was I ever myself? Am I multi-faceted, or have I been subconsciously wearing masks?
If I am multi- faceted, are all sides equal, or are some greater than others?
If it is a masquerade, when will the masks be lifted?
When will this nonsense every end? Questions I ask, not expecting answers.
So lost. So confused.
Trying to find balance in a quicksand; trying to breathe when buried six feet under.
A puppet trying to pull its own string; the mute trying to scream.
An automaton trying to understand emotions by reasoning.
An automaton who managed to emote by reasoning, to realise he has ceased to be an automaton.
Sunset in Tokyo is sunrise in Sao Paolo. Sunrise or sunset, a matter of location.
A feast for a Chinese is pure torture for a Yank. Feast or torture, a matter of heritage.
A glass of water is both half full or half empty. Half full or half empty, a matter perspective.
Can we always be in control of our location, heritage and perspective?
Divergence, differences, difficulties.
Morose.
Feeling all alone in a crowd. Cut off from the main flow, slowly drying up, shriveled and sad. Why? Beats me.
Perhaps it is PLC, this meaningless period that sapped all life out of me. Or perhaps it is the state of the market, in its all time bearishness, where even bonds have failed. Perhaps.
Change.
I have changed. So much, yet so gradual. Looking back, I have become a totally different person. I wonder if the old me would have hated the new. I wonder which is the old, and which is really the new. Was I ever myself? Am I multi-faceted, or have I been subconsciously wearing masks?
If I am multi- faceted, are all sides equal, or are some greater than others?
If it is a masquerade, when will the masks be lifted?
When will this nonsense every end? Questions I ask, not expecting answers.
So lost. So confused.
Trying to find balance in a quicksand; trying to breathe when buried six feet under.
A puppet trying to pull its own string; the mute trying to scream.
An automaton trying to understand emotions by reasoning.
An automaton who managed to emote by reasoning, to realise he has ceased to be an automaton.
Sunset in Tokyo is sunrise in Sao Paolo. Sunrise or sunset, a matter of location.
A feast for a Chinese is pure torture for a Yank. Feast or torture, a matter of heritage.
A glass of water is both half full or half empty. Half full or half empty, a matter perspective.
Can we always be in control of our location, heritage and perspective?
Divergence, differences, difficulties.
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