Kafez

Literary

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Location: Dublin, Republic of, Ireland

Thursday, 18 January 2007

I am struggling

Somewhere, the singing stopped.

I don't hear it anymore, as I lie on a torn driftwood in open sea. I am struggling to breathe. And can barely keep my head above water. This, in a manner of speaking.

I am drifting and caught in a tide of hopelessness. I feel disconnected to almost everyone and feel no sense of belonging and not anymore in this blogging world. Who am I writing for? Who is reading? Who cares? Where once I thought I had friends I have to accept the reality that perhaps, except for a couple, I have none.

So many times I thought those who didn't want me around, liked me around. I wanted to play. No one would say no but no one cared either way. It was the schoolyard...an elusive sorority all over again. And now, that reality has hit home.

Yes, the incidents of the last weeks have finally caught up with me. And that is the painful thing. Have my comments been appreciated elsewhere all this while? The answer may be a big No.

I did let the terrible words go, yes. Because of my sensibility, I escaped the sharp stab of the spear but caught instead, its tip. Enough to rip a slice of skin. Using my Never Mind philosophy which saved my sanity, I ran and dived for cover. I walked on the solitary open road. I saw lions everywhere in small tight smiles and polite words but I escaped.

Now, I am the sad tin soldier, sitting by the wayside, thumbing a ride.

I am tired and so, inclined to reflect that yes, after all, I am stupid. Everyone thinks I am stupid. Stupid and worse. I should never have seen those words. Just one more ghost to haunt the darkside. One more good reason to do myself in. The poison seeps in at a dangerous moment. Better not to know. Better not to know what people really think of you. I fight everyday not to believe those words. And not to remember.

How does someone like me who is constantly, pursued by the darkness as much as I am pursued by the light, live through it? At least...to see a few of my dreams through. Someone as intense as me, cannot live too long but I ask for 2 more years...that is all.

I am the tormented poet and writer. I choose not to die but to stay alive. Hopefully, I shall stay alive all through 2008, because at the moment the intensity of the soul has become a raincloud and the desire to pursue survival, has become a daily battle.

I could be a popular comic act in theatre but be found unconscious in a bathroom, the next day. Yes, my destiny has that make-up. Light & blight & black & white.

How popular, important or powerful do we think someone really is? Only by how we choose to hold them in our minds. How stupid do we think another is? Only by the measurement of our own social stability that pits against its victim.

I feel connections breaking and my soul being pushed out into oblivion. My spirit going far away.
Sinking and slumbering...sinking and slumbering...

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