Hut of Recluse

i might jsust regret wahtatever I am typign now.

I really hope no one froma my churcha wreads this blog ever.

I really am hoping for tthe dayw wahen I drink enough to lose all my consciousnes anda be truly drunk. I don'tat aknwo. I jsut want to try that feeling and alet lsooe on all my ratioanalitya and just be myself.

I hate arurlses, and I dont' knwoa why i follwoa them.

I realty hate ita, buate i don't knwoa why its neveer ar safe enough ato let lsose.

I don't wanta t to adisappoint.

Its sjust my natuera, and i disapoint becauaeas i don't even eatwnat to get close toa tryinga nd failing,a so i might as well concede from the satart. 

But when i finally got to see the light, its as though something so old an distant starts to fill me with its musky familiarity. Its like meeting a wandering stranger and having everything to do with him. Its like warm green tea filling you to the brim with its fragrance and brilliance. Its like the sun pouring and illuminating every single crevice of your body. Its like feeling as if you have the power and ability to conquer anything in this world. Its this blind power which charges you up, and makes you smile to yourself, even though there is not evident reason to do so.

It is rational, it is seeing people, and talking to them, and spurring them on to join you in the fight of life, to overcome all the depressing things which try to weigh us down every day.

It is brushing aside the people who try to take you down, it is enjoying whatever you do, and doing whatever you want to do.

I've come into contact with a fulfilling feeling before, I want it back, and it is coming back. Music indeed is a miracle, and it fills me up. 

With each passing day, a bit of me crumbles and flakes away, its only a matter of time I'm reduced to absolutely nothing.

I'm really dying, my body lives on, but my will is dying.

And i'd be no different from a dead man after I really die. 

Whats the point with waiting for something to give you that one pivotal kick to finally send you into flight?

Whats with this weariness that wastes your day and makes you idle your time away?

Wheres the drive which bypasses every alarm sounded by your flesh and urges you to press on forward?

The seekers never find anything outside of themselves, because everything starts from within. 

Wrapped up in my own troubles like if she still likes me. Caught up with things like if I'm able to pull off yet another instance of avoidance. Worried excessively about things like what to do the next day, who to go out with. Vexing about ways to get even more social plus points and how to pull of yet another stunt to focus all eyes on me. Strategising, improvising, leveraging on the soft spots of the crowd, weaselling around social hierachies, slithering about rules, fogging the visioon and judgment of people around me, all so skillfully, to finally and hopefully get that desired attention, and spending my days visualising, fantasizing about the glamour and glory of such a spotlight.

And people are out there, dying for causes which are real, which really happen.

And people are out there slogging their lives away to bring home the dough, and not even wanting to harbour a glimpse of a thought of enjoyment.

And people like you, are taking these things for granted, living in your own world, wasting away a month's worth of toil and labour, in an instant.

Yet again, there are many things, I still don't understand, about this world.

I don't understand how some things can exist, and thrive, despite all these.

 There are many things I want to do.

Somehow all these things tie in for one common objective, of which I will not disclose. That might also be simply because I too do not bear the knowledge of the subconscious cause I'm driven by. It seems like I'm doing all these things to prepare for some sort of showdown, a kind of ultimatum. 

That is why I say I will die this year. I just have this feeling, and strangely I do not feel any form of fear, nor do I feel as if I'm to escape this revelation. Something's gonna happen this year, I do not know what.

But then again, I might be wrong.

It'll be fantastic either way, to have lived one's cause, or to live on to live for another. However, whatever the outcome, I know I have to give an account, in any form, to the inhabitants of this world before I take my leave. I'll have to leave a mark, leave an explanation, as to why these things are like that, as to how I arrived at the place I'm setting my feet upon now.

I think I know just the way I'm going to tell this story. When words fall and lessen to nothing but delicately arranged vocal vibrations, the need to capture the very essence of the moment in more abstract forms become the more tempting choice.

Do I have to?

I had to watch, as that soft image held still, held high, and froze to grey.
I was watching, and time turned still, chilled to a pause.
I remember that expression, that feeling, of having every single ounce squeezed out,
And how it all crossed into a weak choke.

It was as though my life, was wrenched out of me, as though, life ended right there and then.

I never knew how many times, I tried to say something.
Needless to say, the number of times I tried to drown myself with the things which corrupted me.
I tried so hard to swerve through the dark murk, I tried so hard to search for that gem which was cast away.
I couldn't find anything, but myself surrounded by darkness.

I asked myself, "what have I done?" as I stood admist those threads of evil, as they consumed me.
I am now but a pale resonance, but there is even any, of my past.
And I'm still growing, and these things are growing into me.

I will always look back to that day, and I will never be at peace.

 Every single time I experience the swelling of tension and anger, I find myself idling around, losing the peak of the moment, and unable to seize the tide. I end up with a less than satisfactory moment to squeeze the spur out of, I end up with a second degree sentiment to tap into when I do my posts.

I end up feeling fatigued and tired, unable to fully pen my thoughts and feelings.

And its simply because I have so much to deal with, so much to focus on, and no time to lose. I am running my final lap into the next phase, and many things are waiting for me to set up to secure a path ahead, the path onward to finally take true flight into true freedom.

Financial independence, indepence, freedom to pursue, freedom to express, freedom to power, and power to truly influence.

Whatever this strategy is, and whoever that is ultilizing it, it is working.

Then again, I realise, I might just be the one working against myself, the one who is a conflicted embodiment of intentions and ethics.

The Ego's really having it hard, trying to appease both the Self and the Superego.

But I know, all this, is to finally fuel my pet project, to finally take shape, and accomplish one of the causes I've found for myself to never leave undone before I die.

I have a new found motivation!

I'm gonna achieve that desirable body very soon. I am going to hit the gyms often once again.

I want to say goodbye to the days of beer, booze and puffs , though they won't be gone entirely, just that incidents of such will be extremely little.

With a goal such as this and many many others that I'm interested in, I am going to start truly living in due time.

Bye bye to stagnant living!

And also goodbye to stupid, rule abiding, worthless living!

Life will remain paused until I finally finish this part of the race: the end.

So right now I am devoting my energies into getting this right.

For my future, yes, its not like I wasn't scalded before.

I am going to secure this, and my big break will come, and I can finally breathe for a while.

After which a no brainer will come for 2 years, and I am ready to truly fly.

That is, if my secret prophecy doesn't come true.

I really feel that I indeed have changed, for the better that is.

This stability that adults so often talk about, this calmness and coolness in the face of adversity and gravity, I think I am starting to comprehend just what it's about.

It's been a while since anything of this sort happened, everything was cold and monotonous until whatever happened took place, all in the absence of a calm and clear mind.

I must admit I still feel very messed up, but instead I'm thankful that an incident of this sort took place, that I may arrive at this stage of restrospection.

Everything would be alright if I just give myself some time to sort things out, or if things take an even more drastic turn.

It would be equally interesting either way.

Christmas eve! Been tired, exhausted, in solitude, quiet, dead, dulling and slow lately.

No time to even catch my breath, just going and slogging and slogging aimlessly.

No time to even make a proper blog, with a proper blogskin, with proper html.

No time to even type this post properly cuz theres service in a few hours and I've been surviving on measly amounts of sleep, which wears me down even more with each passing day.

And there are still so many things that bog my head in and out of my daily transition between consciousness and REM.

I just wonder when my big break will come, and allow myself to catch up with what I've been doing.

Then gravity shall finally act its role and let me in on the real weight of my activities.

Ho ho ho Merry Christmas! 

Time has slowed down drastically for me.

Everything is moving so slowly and the world's suddenly reduced to a small grass patch where I play with myself, with the same toys, and the same blocks.

And every single day, I never fail to wake up to the all too familiar place again, to be greeted by those unmoving faces (painted in red and green on wooden stack toys), again.

This is almost getting too repetitive for me to act as if I'm surprised every time I go about my forced routine to preserve my sanity.

I wonder if the dark edge off the patch would bring me anywhere new.

Soon it will be due time when it doesn't even matter of theres anything else out there.

I might just tip off for the sole sake of escaping from this 5 by 5 metre asylum. 

My eyes are showing me a different picture.

I never knew the answer to the why, until just now, when something just struck me.

The missing piece to the stark difference between my guide and the scene before me.

It just seems that compromise has deteriorated this oasis to a poor sight. 

 

 

What am I to do with a crowd such as this on a bright sunny day, when it is apparent that I indeed walk alone, on the path which few would truly grasp?

How is it that not a single soul is able to see with their mind's eye, see the things and happenings which are taking place?

Why is it that people can keep mum and shush just because of a reason such as this?

I used to be like that, I used to be normal, but something struck myself against my head and something was unlocked. I used to be bound by these emotions of blackmail, but now I am unleashed.

And why do I keep cutting myself short by other online distractions?

I don't know, and we all are still looking for answers.

Ho, ho, ho. (:

Level 1.

He was the person who walked out on everything.

He was torn between the angel and the demon. He lost everything he once loved, and he brought all his revelations to pass with his own hands. His unholy premonitions, the product of his paranoia, his incessence with the worst that could ever happen. His fears shrouded him and left him in his own blindless and by push and shove he was led to his what his terrified subconscience foresaw. He had to be right. He had to be correct, and he led himself to this end.

He had a light but he was in the darkness and a piece of sackcloth dimmed the light off center on the left of his chest. He was totally muffled and gagged by his own desires and greed. His thirst was quenched by the blood he claimed from his comrades. A lone ranger and a rebel of the organisation, he left himself wasted in the depths he once swore never to set himself upon. He now looks up at the banner he once looked up to, and his penitence is paid in due in the wilderness, where he trudged aimlessly without any belonging. He knows where he is, but he doesn't know why.

The questions that linger in his head every night, the maddening silence which rings through his ears, he knows he doesn't have to do this.

He knows he doesn't have to dislodge his wings and take up the thorned whip. He is wearing very thin. He doesn't know if the sackcloth was what he wanted in the first place. He told himself to remember very clearly the things which were right before his eyes, but memory is but a falliable resource. He know he is only human, trying to be something higher. He knows many things, but he doesn't know so much more.

He is starting to understand, as his eyes look upon a light in a faraway distance. He is pining for the banner being holsted from miles away. It'll take ages for him to reach his family but he knows that a rouge like himself can make it back. He knows, that no matter his gear or his dilapidation, he can return, and strip himself once again. The glow which eludes off center on the left, will never extinguish. nothing will stop him now.

And as the days go by, he ponders with increasing positivity, about his long journey northbound, where the star in the sky and his flame resonate in unison.

And I know, I will give up everything, just to feel how it is like to be in Your arms again.