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senslessblackness · 2 years ago

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My beloved,

Should I even start by saying that these words might not be able to properly convey my emotions and thoughts? It's better to put it in absolute terms and state, as a matter of fact, that words and phrases will fall short to assist me in what I would like to tell you. See, how horrible I am, that I already need to ask for your forgiveness, for my idiosyncratic way of beginning, and my strange addiction in pointing out the shortfall of these feeble words - no doubt, a metaphor for my own shortfall, my own feebleness.

Because this is not a letter in which I profess my eternal love for you, and I ask, beg and cajole you to reciprocate. No, this is not about that. I do adore you with all my heart, but how could I ask you to do the same to me? Firstly, because I might feel this way now, I do not see the future, I cannot trust time, I am not a friend of time, for he surprises me regularly, often in the crueles ways, and so I cannot profess my eternal faith to you, no matter the temptation and assurance I feel in this moment. This moment is capricious, fleeting and particular, and love should be stable, lasting and universal, shouldn't it?

Secondly, could I say that, if I could call you mine, I would feel as if the most precious stone in the whole entire world came into my possession, and I would cherish it, worship it, give my eternal thanks for it to the sky? Yes, I could. And it would be true, and I would dig deep into my soul, and whatever I would find, I would offer to you on a silver platter, to do with it as you wish.

But no matter, because love, true love, ought to be reciprocal, and I am terrified to be the handler of your deepest being, for I would be forever fearful of doing some kind of damage to it, corrupting it, or even ruining it.

And further, as I already see you as the peak of creation, as a Goddess on Earth, how could I ask you, how could I expect you, you, to love me, to put up with me, to learn my peculiar ways and accept them, to see them not as flaws but various shines of another diamond, or sapphire, or ruby, perhaps? How could I ask you to love me? How could I ask that of you, when I know myself, not fully, but enough that I am aware of so many imperfections that it would even be a folly trying to count them, so much so that I could only ever see myself as an imperfection incarnate, as a broken being, who might be cured by true, pristine, unconditional love… but no… the risks are too high, and I cannot let anyone take the chance, especially you, my most loved, because what if instead of you lifting me up, it would be me dragging you down, taking away the gleam and splendor and introducing you to a kind of murkiness, kind of obscurity and darkness that would compromise you forever? It's simply not worth the risk.

So you see, I talk much about myself, and little about you, and that's because this is not a writing to convince you to be with me, no, this here is a justification, a warning, a confession for why you should never consider me as your other half. It would be an undertaking where any positive outcome would be far from certain, and maybe if I was a braver man, I would invite you to dance this dance of life with me, but as I am, I'd rather let you go, for I have no doubt that you are very capable of finding love elsewhere, with someone else, who's not perpetually tormented by thoughts of all kinds, like I am.

But in the case that you would rather take the chance, in case that you would take this huge gamble, in case, perhaps, that you already do love me, and what I wrote thus far was not the distinguishing of a small candlelight, but the fanning of a forest fire, you will know where to find me, and I will be the happiest man on Earth if I ever saw you there. But if not, of which I'm almost certain, I can only send you my warmest wishes, express my true desire that you do find the kind of love that is so rare in this wretched world, and hope (perhaps I shouldn't write this) that if there is life after death, and our souls will go on living truly eternal lives, that we may cross paths again, perhaps during a time when I'm less conflicted, less anguished, less self-conscious, and then maybe, just maybe, something magical might happen to you and I, because however hard I try, I cannot deny my feeling of longing towards you, to be in companionship with you, for the possibility to explore all the hidden things in you and if I was presented with the challenge of experiencing the darker side of you, the side that you try to hide, but is there nonetheless, I would say yes, yes, a thousand times yes to the opportunity to be there for you, however hard it might be, until we don't think in terms of "You" and "I", but in terms of "Us", and although our individuality would never be lost, we would finally not be alone in a world so large and strange, frigthening and alien, no, we would be together to face the challenges that would inevitably come… but right now, it is me who writes these meager words to you, and I don't know what to add, I don't know how to express myself better, and I don't feel that any addition would contribute anything meaningful to anything, so, here it is, my letter to You.

#love #loveletter #foreverlove

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senslessblackness · 2 years ago

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Breaking-point, deep breath, next

May I ask, what is your problem?

What do you mean?

I mean, from the obvious fact that you are extremely gloomy right now? What’s pressing on your chest?

*sigh* I don’t think this is a conversation you want to have.

And why is that?

It would probably end up making you feel bad too. Or at any rate, I don’t think you have the time.

Let’s say that I’m resilient when it comes to feelings. And I have the time. So, if there is a small chance that talking about it might help, go ahead.

*silence* I mean… it’s so complicated. I don’t even think that I have either the words or the bare knowledge to tell you why I feel the way I do. But it’s definitely more than that. It’s why I am the way I am.

I don’t think anyone has perfect knowledge.

You’re right. Well… oh, gosh, this will sound so horrendous. I might be this way because I haven’t had a satisfying social interaction in a while. Or because I have no clear purpose. Or because things are just not perfect. Or that I cannot properly appreciate nor the current moment, nor the things that I have, that I have access too, that there are, period. My own natural, genetic makeup is also more or less melancholic, I’m sure, especially considering all the knowledge I gathered up along the road. Moreover, there is society. I mean, you have to be blind not to see all the glaring problems that are pervading either some or almost entire parts of the whole societal-cultural-humanistic apparatus that we have going on. And I don’t even mean individual tragedies, may they be small-scale, like family-level disagreement and argument, or large-scale, like child-abduction, child-slavery, child-labor, although I guess some of those might as well go into the collective problem category. My point is that I’m not sad because someone, somewhere is beating their wives right now. My sadness emanates from a deeper source. It’s about the people, and how they live, as a society. I hate how money permeates everything and how much brain power goes into making money, how many decisions are made solely based on how much money the result will yield. Slap businesses and countries into the mix, and you don’t even have to look further why societies are so fucked-up. Like, sure, there are nuclear weapons, and the human cost of war, but most of the dictatorships and oppressive states around the planet come down to who gets to drill for oil, who gets the raw materials, who gets to mine, who gets to get the timber, and so on, right?

But even then, how many families are there where the parents don’t know how to properly be parents and they are slowly messing up their children? And no one there to have a say in it, heck, most of the time it is not even seen. The kids grow up all fucked up, and if you’re lucky, they eventually realize how bad they had it and they vow that when they will have kids, those kids will not be subject to the same trauma-inducing events as they were. Others get lost in the system (in a system, by the way, where selfishness and fear rules) and end up as delinquents, criminals, victims of crimes, or something like that.

So, don’t get me even start on laws, and how inefficient and idiotic not just they are, but the people who make the laws, the system through which those people are elected, the people who draw up that system, and the politicians who sit at the top, not as kings used to, with real power, but as pawns put forward by a system that is so monstrous by now that no one can tell where it begins and where it ends. There are so many subdivisions that even subdivisions have subdivisions with real power, with people who make decisions on who lives and who dies, how will we allocate the parts of an allegedly “infinite” pie, and so on. Of course that the richer and more educated population manipulates the rest, and of course that the system by now is set up in a way that the disenfranchised can do fuck-all about it. No serious protest, no serious uprising is realistic in democratic countries, and even if it was, and you replaced one dude with another, then what? Half of the planet would wake up to the same old shit-show as before.

Burglaries, poverty, propaganda, arm-twisting, constant fear from a million things etc. You fear that you won’t be able to feed your kid, you fear that your kid will hit it off with the wrong crowd, you fear that a civil-war might break out, you fear that the small-scale fiscal crime that you are committing in order to be able to make a living will bite you in the ass and you will be arrested. You are afraid that pollution is rising. You are afraid that you will not have a pension by the time you get to that age. You are afraid of viruses; of sickness; of the price of medical care. You are afraid about how other people perceive you, you are afraid that you are not doing enough, you are afraid that you are failing, or will fail. You are afraid of not living up to your potential. You are afraid of getting malaria, You are afraid of the purity of the water you drink. You are afraid of superpowers waging proxy-wars all around the planet. You are afraid that your broken car will cost too much to fix. You are afraid that your girl will leave you for someone else. You are afraid of your house catching fire, you are afraid of tornadoes, tsunamis, black mold, the Illuminati, the bankers, the loan that you had to take up, you are afraid of depression, you are afraid of not living a mark, you are afraid of being forgotten, you are afraid that your dead-end job will not change for the next decade.

Now, tell me, with all this fear floating around, not to mention envy, anger, sadness, and things like that, how are we supposed to reach a higher-vibrational state? How? You tell me now, if you know, and you will give me a goddamn good reason why you had been withholding that information.

I don’t have the answer?

So, riddle me this, how should one feel good in these circumstances? You know what, don’t even bother, I’ll tell you the reason. You can be happy and blissful if you don’t care about all that stuff. You can be happy if you only care about yourself and your social circle, and if there are no huge problems around, you manage to put a smile on your face and convince yourself that things are alright, usually while consuming some kind of substance. That’s how you get happy in this world. That is how. If you think about all the atrocities that are happening all around the globe (well, of course, you cannot even fathom the scale on which human suffering occurs on a daily basis) you can easily develop a melancholy (at least) that soap will not wash away.

And those people who tell you exactly this as a solution? Take care of yourself, make sure that, first of all, you have close friends, and then that they are not in POW camp, or something, and make peace with the impurities and imperfections in your family relationships, just so you could be happy (oh, and don’t forget, go out and smell the flowers), those people who tell you this: fuck those people. They might not be bad people, they might genuinely mean well for you, they might believe what they say at that very moment, but you know what? Happiness is a facade. It’s a big, shiny balloon that according to our society should float above your head, no matter where you go. You know what they don’t talk about? They don’t talk about how hard it is to set up that balloon, how awful it feels when it ruptures, and finally, that someone else was taken from just so you could have your balloon. That’s what’s up, that’s life right now.

Until there is no long-lasting higher-vibrational existence, until love is the exception and not the norm, it is this ugly, smelly, marshy place where we had the chance to be born and were given a life, and yes, I might change my mind every now and then, and in those moments the Sun shines a little brighter, and the birds’ chirp seems a little nicer, but I guarantee to you, I will not be in that state for long. I am incapable of lasting love, that I know about myself. My father broke my heart, my mother broke my heart, my first love broke my heart, and yes, society also broke my heart. And then people have the audacity to resent me for not being joyful. Let me tell you, brother, it is a wretched world, from where we are standing, and unfortunately, it is just as wretched for billions of others, too. You know why it - humanity, society, law and order, civility - call it what you want - doesn’t just implode? For two main reasons. One is: humans are a tough kind. We can be slapped, hit, insulted, humiliated, ridiculed, discredited, taken advantage of, over and over again, and then again, and we will still stand up and keep going. That’s how it is. And the second reason is just as obvious. It is hope. Hope. Hope. Plain and simple. That indistinguishable little spark somewhere in the middle of your soul, that keeps telling you indefatigably that things might get better, that tomorrow might be better than today, that next year might be better than this one, that things and people and situations might get better. What do you think is the biggest motivation has been through human history? What do you think I’m sitting here now and telling you all this, without any realistic expectation that anything will improve? Because I hope. Because I have the hope that it might matter, if not now, then from now on, or maybe somewhere in the future, who really knows.

So without resulting to a long tirade of profanities to justify my current gloominess, yes, I’m grumpy, and if I truly wanted to do something about it out of thin air, I would be like the clown from the fable who, after taking off his makeup, shot himself in the head as one last act. Because let me tell you, it is incredibly hard to look and act happy when all your thoughts are screaming something against it. So, friend, that’s why I’m moody, and you know what, I don’t even want your answer, I don’t even want you pointing out that the birds are chirping, I don’t even want your sympathy, hopefully you took away one or two things from this uncalled-for check-in.

#life #living

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senslessblackness · 2 years ago

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An ode to waiting

And when my time came, and life was supposed to flash before my eyes, first all I saw were the moments when I waited in supermarket queues. Then moments when I waited for the bus to come. Then when I had to wait before the hospital doors to let me in. Then when I waited for them to put my daughter into my arms. Then when I waited next to the pool table for my turn to hit the cue ball. Then I relived how I waited for my first potato to mature, and how I cherished every little growth I noticed.

The pictures started rolling in, in no particular order. Sitting in my car and waiting for my girlfriend to say something, anything. Waiting in line at the airport and noticing her, unbeknownst to us, for the first time in our lives. How I waited for her to catch up to me when we went hiking. The excruciating waiting at my father's funeral, hoping to do well for the first time without him being there to encourage me. I saw myself waiting in front of the store window, staring at that red fire truck, and how happy I was when I could unpack it during Christmas; it was my constant companion until the wheels gave out. I suddenly remembered all the times when I was waiting for school to finish, and all the times after that when I longingly thought back to those years.

I waited many times for my golden retriever to bring back the ball that I threw, or the random branch that he found. I waited anxiously to see whether there would be a rainstorm, or if the clouds would clear out and we could have a good view from our campsite. I remember waiting for the universities to reply to my application, and I remember the instant joy that I felt when one of them came back positive. I even remember waiting to get to the end of the book, and how surprisingly empty the feeling was. Now what?

I'm not saying that waiting is everything. Or even that it is pleasant. But I think… now I think… that without waiting, life would be much more rushed, and there would be many things that we couldn't appreciate the same way.

#midnightrambling

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