Yr’self

You can’t keep running from yourself. Can’t keep burying your head in someone elses dreams. There’s no escaping the mirrors of your mind, no matter how hard you try. The years come and go. Faces and landscapes, fading into a blurred haze. Money buys new ways to disguise loneliness and guilt, but the pain is always there. You can cover up what you are to others, but you’ll always know yourself, that it’s just a lie you live with, with no hope of resolving. These days should be full of love and glory, not spent running from emotion and truth. I guess it’s easier to be cruel and lie. Easier to pretend that it doesn’t mean a thing. To have the appearance of being like everyone else, is safe and cosy. It’s the done thing to do. But it’s not really you somehow, is it? This gift of life, deserves something more. It demands respect.

These days are a testament of guts and perseverance. If you believe in something, you’ll do all that you can to make it happen. The years’ will roll into the distance, and hope will be the only thing you’ll have to carry you through the night. It’s a lonely road alright. And the pain and anguish that’ll pump through your veins will be devastating. You’ll be crippled by it. Suffocating in an invisible war, at times it’ll seem as if there’s nowhere to go but down. But if you really mean it, you’ll come through. If you want something so much, you’ll take every arrow that self doubt has to offer. And every arrow that others shoot your way as well. You’ll take them all. Be natural. Be honest. Never live a lie. Never keep it back. Take a risk, before it’s too late. Because this is it. There’s no going back. And time waits for no one.

Others cling to normality. They breathe in the confines of acceptability. To fit in is their religion. Success and money, the two things that make them hard. It kills me that this is what everyone seems to think life is all about. Climbing the ladder, and dreaming of dollars and cents. Plastic culture is what it is. Dumb, numb and hollow to the core. Dreadful suits and pouting lips. Push-up bras and fast cars, driving nowhere fast. Holidays and fine cigars, stinking like yesterdays trash. Crave something more. Crave magic. Crave love. Find your voice, and never let it falter. Doesn’t matter if it makes you look like a fool. Doesn’t mean a thing if you fall away from the crowd. They have the money, but you’ve got the soul. If you feel it within you, let the journey begin. What else is there, when faced with the knowledge, that after you die, the universe will continue for billions upon billions of years.

Imagine wasting your tiny spec of life, on something other than love and creation..

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