The weight of the fucking world
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| Painting of Ayana Otake - Astonishing portrait chosen for the cover of the book 毒薬を飲む女 in the Spanish edition "La mujer que tomó veneno". Painting and title haunted me since the first time I saw them. |
To wake up every morning feels like an act of heroism.
To avoid this effort is a temptation we come to do anything to break free from it, to not feel it that much. Among other coward forms I've got to realize why I was anesthetizing myself for so many years: for a long time doing pot, sometimes with anything I could use to amuse myself such as people, alcohol or music, sometimes only through films, shows or books. You may think, hey not all those activities are unhealthy, actually, none of them it is unless you use them to cover your own pain or burden.
I am nothing special, because I've come to realize we're nothing but dust and nobody is better than some else, neither less. To exist, is pure luck, but nobody choose it, and some of us (consciously or unconsciously) disappoint this very principle: the gift of life. Why is it that everything feels so heavy? Is it me? Am I abnormal? The truth is, there is nothing abnormal about me, with the exception of the subjective perspective of taking life as it is. Then, why is it that I feel it this heavy? Do I have lack of courage, of power? I don't really think that is the matter. But when is it about caring about myself, then is hard to concern that much, it has always been easier to care for others, to get concern and get involved into their lives and problems others than mine. That a different kind of power: the power of giving. I wonder if it is real altruism or otherwise. Still, is it that I have the fuse that short?
To avoid this effort is a temptation we come to do anything to break free from it, to not feel it that much. Among other coward forms I've got to realize why I was anesthetizing myself for so many years: for a long time doing pot, sometimes with anything I could use to amuse myself such as people, alcohol or music, sometimes only through films, shows or books. You may think, hey not all those activities are unhealthy, actually, none of them it is unless you use them to cover your own pain or burden.
I am nothing special, because I've come to realize we're nothing but dust and nobody is better than some else, neither less. To exist, is pure luck, but nobody choose it, and some of us (consciously or unconsciously) disappoint this very principle: the gift of life. Why is it that everything feels so heavy? Is it me? Am I abnormal? The truth is, there is nothing abnormal about me, with the exception of the subjective perspective of taking life as it is. Then, why is it that I feel it this heavy? Do I have lack of courage, of power? I don't really think that is the matter. But when is it about caring about myself, then is hard to concern that much, it has always been easier to care for others, to get concern and get involved into their lives and problems others than mine. That a different kind of power: the power of giving. I wonder if it is real altruism or otherwise. Still, is it that I have the fuse that short?
May this be an issue of trust? Or, precisely, giving myself too much to others so I remain empty? Here I mean honesty, not everyone explain and expose their-selves, instead, people tent to keep those scary feelings, or intense ones, because they are afraid of sharing their-selves to hurt others and to be hurt. And this majority, is right indeed. I wonder how can they, and I intend to keep more for myself: it's even sexy, isn't it? like a little something in shades, behind the veil of silence. Unrevealed. Everybody feels attraction to the unknown, even if some people denies it.
To sleep at night is, also, a remarkable task. To put aside all the day's issues, and to not bring the upcoming ones, besides avoiding to get trapped by the ghosts of the memory. All alone, while the cold streaming from the inside out, freezing the atmosphere, and with a bit of luck the undeveloped dreams.
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