Stabber
Established Member
- Reaction score
- 3
I've come to the conclusion that I'm starting to hate myself. It's too many issues happening at once. That light everyone says is at the end of the tunnel, is probably a train (no, i'm not suicidal). I'm losing hair, looking like $hit and getting older. Not to mention the "normal" problems normal people experience. And it makes my heart sink to think that things are only going to get worst. Not better. That's the difference between hairloss/general aging, vs other stressful/troublesome times in one's life. This is the beginning of the end. The process cannot be reversed. Happiness that comes today does not resemble the happiness I felt before. What lingers today as happiness, is merely just a facade or temporary calm that allows me to carry on with my daily duties.
Looking in the mirror, I don't even recognize the person in front of it any longer. I'm so far from where I was, I wouldn't be able to find that place if I spent the rest of my life looking for it. I feel like an aftermath, a leftover. I missed the train to "life." Now it has switched tracks and is heading towards me and doesn't care I'm on the tracks lost.
Forget my sorry attempt at describing this, Eddie Vedder said it better:
Looking in the mirror, I don't even recognize the person in front of it any longer. I'm so far from where I was, I wouldn't be able to find that place if I spent the rest of my life looking for it. I feel like an aftermath, a leftover. I missed the train to "life." Now it has switched tracks and is heading towards me and doesn't care I'm on the tracks lost.
Forget my sorry attempt at describing this, Eddie Vedder said it better:
routine was the theme,
he'd wake up and...
wash and pour himself into uniform
something he hadn't imagined being...
as the merging traffic passed,
he found himself staring, down,
at his own hands..
not remembering the change,
not recalling the plan,
was it...?
he was okay,
but wondering about wandering
was it age? by consequence?
or was he moved by sleight of hand?
mondays were made to fall,
lost on a road he knew by heart
it was like a book he read in his sleep, endlessly...
sometimes he hid in his radio, watching
others pull into their homes
while he was drifting...
on a line, of his own,
off the line, on the side by the by,
as dirt turned to sand,
as if moved by sleight of hand
when he reached the shore of his clip-on world
he resurfaced to the norm
organized his few things,
his coat and keys...
any new realizations would
have to wait
til he had more time, more time...
time to dream, to himself
he waves goodbye, to himself
i'll see you on the other side...
another man...
moved by sleight of hand....