one step forward and...
[nov 28 2004, 22:32]
i wrote about another page. it felt right. i'm still nowhere near what i wanted to get to but i hope to get on with it in time. i need inspiration.
if i should die this very moment, i wouldn't feel. for i've never known completeness like being here.
putting lamb on. loud. very loud.
it's like they write down what's on my mind. just that i could never get it out in this pure form.
all this time i've loved you and never known your face. all this time i've missed you and searched this human race.
past? no, present. one step forward means five steps back. or seven. or however many seem appropriate to the world. the fucking world.
it's christmas soon. and besides all that shopping that needs to be done, i'm thinking about what i'd like for christmas. and, strangely, i just looked at some stuff on my palm pilot. there also was a document called 'wishes' in which i wrote down all the stuff i saw and liked but didn't buy so that, when christmas or a birthday would come and people would ask me for my wishes, i could take some stuff off this list. yet, when i looked at it right now, it only contained one thing that i wrote down one night in denmark, after being a little drunk, not drunk enough not to care but drunk enough to be open to myself. the one thing on my wishlist was 'a life'.
that was two years ago.
and nothing has changed.
it's the little things that matter, the little things that make the difference. at least that's what they say. and partly, i agree. getting or giving something that doesn't come directly from a shop (probably even with the price-tag still on) gives you the feeling that people care about you, that people put some effort into finding out what you are all about.
but sometimes, little things won't do.
i managed to get (well, more somehow slided into being given) a job. i'm now a trainee for some crappy technical job with a description that is about as meaningful as my education so far. and somehow it's strange when my parents talk to people and are being asked about me... they always think for a second, stutter for another two and then call 'hey, what's that thing you're doing called again?'
that was supposed to be a big thing, not a little one. that was supposed to change quite a bit in my life. but apart from getting up at half past six on monday and every second tuesday, apart from having to get to work half an hour earlier than usual... nothing has changed.
i get up, work, get home, spend a few hours, sleep. repeat ad nauseum.
we forget to live.
soon, i'll have to get out here, or i'll crack. soon, something will have to change. i'll have to find somebody or, at least, get the prospect of finding somebody to spend some time with, to talk and, perhaps even more importantly, to listen to.
or, if that doesn't work, i'll have to shut it all off for a while. i'll have to get to ireland - yes, if nobody is coming along, i'll get there by myself - and find out whether it's what i want it to be like.
because - always and forever - i can't be a slave.
always and forever, we're free.
always and forever, be with me.
charon
if i should die this very moment, i wouldn't feel. for i've never known completeness like being here.
putting lamb on. loud. very loud.
it's like they write down what's on my mind. just that i could never get it out in this pure form.
all this time i've loved you and never known your face. all this time i've missed you and searched this human race.
past? no, present. one step forward means five steps back. or seven. or however many seem appropriate to the world. the fucking world.
it's christmas soon. and besides all that shopping that needs to be done, i'm thinking about what i'd like for christmas. and, strangely, i just looked at some stuff on my palm pilot. there also was a document called 'wishes' in which i wrote down all the stuff i saw and liked but didn't buy so that, when christmas or a birthday would come and people would ask me for my wishes, i could take some stuff off this list. yet, when i looked at it right now, it only contained one thing that i wrote down one night in denmark, after being a little drunk, not drunk enough not to care but drunk enough to be open to myself. the one thing on my wishlist was 'a life'.
that was two years ago.
and nothing has changed.
it's the little things that matter, the little things that make the difference. at least that's what they say. and partly, i agree. getting or giving something that doesn't come directly from a shop (probably even with the price-tag still on) gives you the feeling that people care about you, that people put some effort into finding out what you are all about.
but sometimes, little things won't do.
i managed to get (well, more somehow slided into being given) a job. i'm now a trainee for some crappy technical job with a description that is about as meaningful as my education so far. and somehow it's strange when my parents talk to people and are being asked about me... they always think for a second, stutter for another two and then call 'hey, what's that thing you're doing called again?'
that was supposed to be a big thing, not a little one. that was supposed to change quite a bit in my life. but apart from getting up at half past six on monday and every second tuesday, apart from having to get to work half an hour earlier than usual... nothing has changed.
i get up, work, get home, spend a few hours, sleep. repeat ad nauseum.
we forget to live.
soon, i'll have to get out here, or i'll crack. soon, something will have to change. i'll have to find somebody or, at least, get the prospect of finding somebody to spend some time with, to talk and, perhaps even more importantly, to listen to.
or, if that doesn't work, i'll have to shut it all off for a while. i'll have to get to ireland - yes, if nobody is coming along, i'll get there by myself - and find out whether it's what i want it to be like.
because - always and forever - i can't be a slave.
always and forever, we're free.
always and forever, be with me.
charon