BluSkies and Mushroom Soup

June 22nd, 2006

My mind used to be a slave of someone else’s mouth. I can’t decide on my own. I am a poor dependent of another’s ideas and badly want to peel it off my skin. It had swallowed me whole before, I’m at the brim of freedom right now. What am I supposed to do? I’m STILL afraid to put my foot on the coarse ground below. Would it make me better or not? Somewhere, behind the ghoulish life form which is my own self, I haven’t succumbed to my true fears but that doesn’t make me tougher. Pity is never fit for me. I despise facts in me that needs to be pitied upon. I want to be left alone and you astounded yet around. I don’t intend to create pictures of bright pink and yellow for you to mull over something on what I am and what my life consists of. Nothing good in my life seems to last but I’ve never yielded to the lies and hatred which had slowly eaten up the human world and still continued to starve. I am a lying runaway, pleasing everyone is never on top of my list but I talk to people. People whom I think craves for what they think is better for them. How I’d wish I’d think the same. Probably I am. That’s why I’m caught in this journey. I don’t describe my ways. I envision blinding rays of sun and suffocating darkness, that’s when my mind’s completely blind and alone. I look at you, you smile out of wants, I do it too. Infact my day constitutes of a hundred percent beatitude. My breath depends on a hundred percent of confusion, as well. Been satisfied of what you have? This is not my problem. I maybe caught up in an imaginary playground where the hounds never stopped howling and they became my friends. Euphoric salvation is a lie. I am no neophyte; writing and soul-searching. I am just like you. You are just like me. I accepted the truth and you’re living on it refusing to be educated. I won’t worry, I won’t fear. I cross the streets when the red sign is on or not, you trample on people crossing on the pedestrian lanes. My passion goes out to every moving secondary creature, my heart aches to see them abused. I prick my pimples, i scratch my head, I pick my nose, I eat the good portions of the spoiled rice, I lick my fingers clean, I shave off the hairs on my leg, I share my spoon with my dog, I share a room with my sister. Who would think someone walks in a golden path? Nobody is better or much better. All of us are deprived of what we want. All of us were born half needing. All of us weren’t provided equally. I am no sour-grape and I am not defensive. Read between the lines, as the cliche goes. Would you think some of what I say is right? Do you think I am confused? Do you think my head speaks what is right? Don’t ever let me hear you say YES! You are supposed to think on your own. Be in your own colony - your comfort zone which is in your undisturbed mind. hush.. Let me ask you what you were thinking of when you woke up from your sleep at dawn? Can you remember most of it? Ever dreamt of the same dream everyday since you were young? Ever flown in your dreams but it was never on high grounds? Ever ran away from your enemies but your feet feels heavy and you wanted to cry in your sleep? Ever kept what you wanted in your dreams under your pillow, thinking you could keep it once you’ll wake up from sleep? And then you’d be a disappointed mess when you found out it was just a dream. All of us dreamt the same dreams. Our nightmares differ. Either way, we are all the same. I still continue to refuse I am. Convincing myself to make up some unknown language to shove off what blocks my way. I’d continue to have my head bent low, my eyes half-closed, as I’d slowly go out of this maze.

15:33 PM