September reflection

 This trip has given me much time of selfreflection. To visualize my forever longing for immortality. To realize that it has been satiated temporarily by my productions. In a way that is unsustainable.  

     When does one find satisfaction? When will I? Have you? We are told of the world is our oyster, slimy, raw living creature that slips down the back of your throat. An aphrodisiac. My insatiable desires keeps me moving forward, my depression my muse, the monster constantly biting at my tail. Move, move, move it says. In fear of stagnation turning me to concrete. A slow process as my moist body becomes encompassed by stabbing crystals. move, move, move, you can do better. I hear it whispering into my ear as it grasps the back of my neck claws piercing. 

     Life is short, and I can see my mortality on my face. The years are passing, am I where I wanted to be at this age? Am I my most perfect self? What does that even mean?

     I feel like Jonathan Livingston Seagull, forever seeking perfect flight, when will I be satisfied? When I learn to fly beyond space, time, life? The best parts of myself come out when I’m teaching others. So I forever surround myself with youth. However this can be a double edge sword. For youth is fleeting, unpredictable and can often be demeaning. 

     I have never felt comfortable in my skin, I have never understood my peers or what it is that drives them. I’ve never found a like soul. forever walking this earth alone, perhaps aware, perhaps too aware. 

     They say happiness is bliss, but knowledge is power. is it better to be blissful? Or powerful? Well it’s too late for me to be blissful. I’ve already seen too much of the worlds hardships, I’ve already encompassed too much heartbreak. So is it power then for me? Is this something that I have ever wanted? Ever strived for? I do not feel it so. 

     There was a time when my writing was prolific, I’ve written numerous books now all in a trunk in my forever storage. A literal place. A literal, literary place. I miss that place, I miss that feeling. To be able to put my emotions into words and into the world for anyone with the time and interest to listen. Speaking into the abyss, into the darkness, waiting for an echo, any echo. an inkling of a voice of understanding.

     This is something that I desire to have embrace me once again. I wish to totally be encompassed in my own mentality. Production of it. Delivering it to the Oubliette. For perhaps the best ideas have been forgotten. That’s always been my greatest fear. To be forgotten. For as long as we remain on the minds and lips of someone, we are Immortal.

     So move, move, move, forever forward, be productive, better than the past. Produce more.  It’s claws run down my back. Opening past scars. So forward movement forever dangling carrot called desire, perhaps it’s out of fear. fear of the unknown,  fear of not being appreciated, fear of being forgotten.