"so may you come with your own knives
you'll never take me alive
with all the force of what is true
is there nothing I can do?"
There never really quite is anything to do about anything. This life is one that forever increases ones longing for connection whilst with subtle trickery replacing, piece by piece, your loved ones with a straw man of a figure whose every whim threatens to rule your life, should you allow it.
I am very sad today. Fall awakens within me the longing for that cruel world of dreams which I spurned while it lasted and lamented when it left. I want my friends back. But what sickens me is the irony- the karma, perhaps- of the situation. In my early adolescence, I was untouchable, it seemed- able to cast aside whomever I willed and focus instead on some self-absorbed pursuit. Within only a few years, the scales of justice turned, and now I receive little to no mercy from those who I once loved, then hated, then loved again. It's maddening, and I would that I had never, ever treated anyone like this...
Yet still I am not penitent: still I am jealous and self-indulgent.. Nothing short of a miracle could dissuade me from this path..
Do I still continue on? Do I ride on, and if so, for what purpose, if any, beyond the hope that I might be found worthy of mercy on Judgement Day and might impart some weak points of love unto others?
In so many ways am I am cruel and double-minded; I must wait for this irrational passion to leave me, yet again, so that one day it might never again return. One day, shall I honestly not feel the sting of the perceived loss of those who I most firmly decided to cling to at one, far-away point in the desolate region that is the past?