This is something I wrote instead of poetry. Poetry's normally the only thing that can explain how I feel, due to the fact I'm incoherent and let's face it, my mind is a bloody black hole. But I needed to write bulk. But just do something small. I needed to let my fingers move more than normal. So having said that. This is my latest entry to my poetry, just not in the same format. Everything I write has an explination and purpose. I can write a diary entry for every poem. This time, I did it the other way around. Meaning, instead of the poem. Later on, I might let my thoughts gather a little more, and do a proper (as much as I can call anything I write proper...bah) poem to go with the meaning. But for now. Something which some of you will actually be able to get perspective on, cause god knows you'll be fucked trying to understand anything I normally write. If you'd read my other work, you'll know what I'm talking about, so this is a blessing.
Recently I've been thinking more about things. I'm in a position now where I should be happy. I could say I'm pleased with what I have, but it's that underlying lack of substance, which I keep focusing on. The pivotal role of my life is based on some trivial little job which has some impact on the real world, but no real importance. But to me, it's my life. Without it, there it no reason for me to be here. I have no reason to be alive, it is this which has kept me alive this long. But it's become quite clear that this isn't helping me, or changing my life, or giving me the absolution of happiness. It's just giving me enough meaning and pleasure to keep me alive. I initially thought of it as my savior. A place which I can be reborn and become the person I've longed to be. But now I've settled into where I am, and it all comes down to this. I'm not happy. We all read shit about people's perspectives on life, and their opinion on why we are nothing but a simple existence, but it's so true. It's each ones rationalisation on life. Mine is quite simple. We are living being like all those we share the earth with. But we are burden with emotions and advanced thought. Most living beings think to survive and socialise. Our thoughts extend far further than our need to exist. In an end, we even think as far as self-destruction. The contradiction to existence. Why are we so vain to think that our lives here are more than life? I do understand there is more complications to that, we have to adapt to our lives, which I have, but I've found no meaning in my adaptation. I love what I do, with all my heart. But that place is the contradiction to my influx of happiness. I don't know if it's normal, or a defect of my mind, but everytime I begin to feel like it's all going to be alright, everything breaks into shards and falls apart. Not literally, not life, but emotionally. Internally. Mentally. Just me. They smile, I smile, I laugh, I'm happy, it ends, I fall, and I die a little more inside. I don't know why, but I guess its fates way of showing me the big picture. Some people are meant to be content, I'm not. I remember writing a poem about the optimism of our demise. How we all think that it all comes to nothing and we all fucked in the end. I seemed to give the illusion that if we have faith and believe in ourselves and be true to our hearts, then it will all come back in spades. But I guess I was just going through this enlightened phase. I believed that if I said it, then I could live it. But it's more than that now. It's harder now to try and live what I believe. have faith and live on that. I have so much love for what I do, and who I'm with 3 days a week, but why isn't it enough anymore? There is one aspect missing. The fact I'm alone. Nothing in the world can change that except the obvious. I haven't had companionship for years, and I think that that is the difference between demise and contentment. It's not something I can illude myself into thinking. I can't wish it into existence, it's either there or it isn't. I'm alone. Although it's amazing how much the other aspects of my life have compensated for this for so long. Up until my life changed a year ago, the sense of being alone was overwhelming. But since then it hasn't been nearly as relevant. But nothing can really replace the feeling of being a part of someone's life. Not like this, not like my life, but truly with someone else. I need that. I guess now I've come to the conclusion that it's this which I'm lacking so much. Companionship. I hated what I was doing since I left school so much it nearly cost me my life. Until I started teaching. This has given me something I am truly thankful for. I love them more than life itself. But it's not enough now. I said to myself that there is nothing left. But I'm going to contradict myself and say that if I have faith in fate and believe that there is someone out there for me whom I will meet soon, and then I can be at peace. I can love, I can be in love, and I can live. In theory. Beg's the question though, what then? Will I be happy? Will I be content? Will I be writing again asking why she hasn't completed my life? Although, I could just say that faith will show me the way. I'm sure it'll be ok. One way or another.