What do I value most in a person? If I were to exclude the ephemeral qualities like spirit and independence, it would always be the ability to have a conversation, the ability to communicate, the ability drown me in a whirlwind of words that originate from the deepest recesses of the mind. Maybe it is thus because I tend to talk a lot, there is only a hailstorm and hardly ever a drizzle when it comes to conversations and me. But, words are not necessarily a good measure of anything, they can assume values totally different from what the person who spoke it could have ever meant to give it. And it works both ways, it can make a person happy or hurt a lot more than what it was ever intended to.
The fascination for words is at the same time mired in a deep disgust for it. The magic in those spells strung together by odd shaped characters and empty spaces is the sincerity with which it is spoken. That, like most things in life, varies on a day-to-day basis and it can never be demanded of you. The magic just fades away then and the lips engage in verbal prostitution. The listener is satisfied, the speaker enacts a well practiced ritual for the price of maintaining relationships or one of the many forms of instant gratification that is used in place of honesty. Is it worth it? I honestly do not know. But, prostitution has always been a thriving profession, so there must be some purpose to it.
How do you react when you awaken into pitch darkness? How do you react when you realise you are miserably lost? You cannot be really be scared of what you cannot see and every road leads to nowhere when you are lost for the lack of a destination. Every alley is a blind opportunity or is an invitation to an unseen disaster, to find out you have to walk ahead, no matter how dark it is. For whatever it is that enriches you, or whatever it is that destroys you, it will eventually get to you and tomorrow's answers cannot sway today's questions.
To be honest and to cut the crap, I am miserably lost. I am happy for the load that has gone off my shoulder and sad for the lightness that I feel and the people that I am afraid I am losing because of it. It is very hard to deal with newly found space and air after a long time when you clean up the messy room of your life. It is extremely difficult to deal with circumstances when answers that originate from outside your self do not serve any purpose and inside there is nothing but emptiness echoed by a million answerless questions.
The world is essentially an open road and I have to pick my own route to a destination that I have no clue about. There is a sense of joyful anticipation that is underscored by a sense of trepidation whether what is to come will be set again to a feeling of deja vu, albeit on a different scale. I have always lived by what I have felt is right and in the end that is my only satisfaction in life. I have messed up and hurt people a lot more while on that path, but there is no other way for me. I need to move on, for I believe that even if one were to live for 100 years, it would still be a few hundred years too short to have lived, even with all the unfairness and pain that is there in living.
I hate it when words fail me, especially when they fail to convey what I feel, when all I can come up with is just the same old sentences repeated over and over again, like a broken record that mocks at me. I hate it when in my heart I want to reach out and touch people and spectacularly fail in it due to the dislike of invoking those same paltry words that provide a sense of comfort and belonging that my actions cannot convey. I hate it when words that I said are not heard and the words that I heard are not what they meant. Afterall, what good is communication when it is not backed by understanding?