It is all of that plus a nothing that drowns me in its oppression. The
emptiness and the desire walking hand in hand, in a dislocated alliance that
defragments the illogic being with which I cannot deal. It is all of that.
A piece of thought in the form of disqualified dream. That mediocre
expectation one has when there is nothing else to do and that makes you fear
everything, even when that everything
boils down to absolutely nothing. A glass half empty in a table set for one.
Because the thirst to have it all never allows the cup such circumstance as the one of
being half full.
I will get a dictionary and throw it at your head in hopes that, out of it,
comes an assortment of words which form a sentence with the slightest bit of logic
to transmit something that I might want to say. If I think enough about those
words that I don’t find and in those sentences I cannot put together as the
dictionary hits you, will something good enough come out of it? As for me, I’ll
throw myself into a house of mirrors to know and be filled with the person I
live with, maybe then I won’t feel so lonely or maybe I’ll turn into a lunatic
whose disease can be proven, then, with it, I’ll be able to justify everything,
these texts written late and at a bad time, as no time it such type of thoughts
can be good.
You know what want I tell you? Throw yourself down that abyss so that you can end
up with your face on the floor where you once saw it smeared on. More of the
same tastes as something new when you don’t want to search for more, isn’t it? Go
through those roads where you’ve lost and couldn’t find yourself, not yourself
nor anything but loneliness. Discourses of self-reflection aren’t worth a thing
when you don’t accept yourself, child, who doesn’t know how to walk but already
dreams of not walking but teletransporting and tells himself that nothing is
impossible unless we determine it so.
Half truths or half lies? Everything depends on perspective and when such
thing is my responsibility I prefer to say everything I think and make up what
I don’t think, abuse of cruelty and kindness and be whatever I want to. Half
truths or half lies? Only I know and even so, in the end, all that is said is
worth something. Interpret whatever you want but here is the warning, you’re in
the house of appearances where not even the walls you see you truly know.
