it is what it is.
if I'm being honest, there isn't much to tell nowadays. or maybe, I do have tons of stories or ideas to share, only that I'm simply not amused to let such stories or ideas out yet. it's never empty. it's never a lonely journey. it's never about me and the existential crisis only. I'm aware of how my mind is the busiest temple in my body. and I figured, at least I have someone to share those stuff with. so, I convince myself everyday, apart from thanking God or the universe itself, oh, one person is already enough. and most of the stories or ideas I have are not worthy anyway. but that's how I like it -- idleness or helplessness. it's some sort of relief to know that I'm able to not do anything at all, and even if I did it, I did it on my own pace. no restrictions, no goals, no expectations. just breathing, and keep breathing.
this is the ideal life I've been waiting for.
that I just need to curl up in my idleness or helplessness and appreciate the way I breathe and don't need to do anything at all. and I think about the endless possibilities which I certainly could find myself enjoying them, but I didn't, while I watch my life passes me by as if I'm the one guarding the Time. to whom do I owe this gratitude then? probably my guilt, and the many reasons for me to keep growing. and there is no denial in that second part, I presume, because I myself am already tired of telling the same truth. it repeats on me, over and over again, and still -- I let myself drown and stay underwater whenever I question my own sanity. and at the end of the day, I can't wait to properly ask myself this: is it even worth it? I wanted to believe the answers to such question lie somewhere between me tantalising the clichés in life and me being honest with all my limitations.
yet -- I guess, somehow, somewhere at one point, I might've thrown myself at both. and that's just the way I prefer it to be. yes, it's always calmer this way.
till then.
this is the ideal life I've been waiting for.
that I just need to curl up in my idleness or helplessness and appreciate the way I breathe and don't need to do anything at all. and I think about the endless possibilities which I certainly could find myself enjoying them, but I didn't, while I watch my life passes me by as if I'm the one guarding the Time. to whom do I owe this gratitude then? probably my guilt, and the many reasons for me to keep growing. and there is no denial in that second part, I presume, because I myself am already tired of telling the same truth. it repeats on me, over and over again, and still -- I let myself drown and stay underwater whenever I question my own sanity. and at the end of the day, I can't wait to properly ask myself this: is it even worth it? I wanted to believe the answers to such question lie somewhere between me tantalising the clichés in life and me being honest with all my limitations.
yet -- I guess, somehow, somewhere at one point, I might've thrown myself at both. and that's just the way I prefer it to be. yes, it's always calmer this way.
till then.