There’s always tomorrow
What is life about? So far I can only say what it isn’t about-it is not a 8 to 5 prison, silly little idle time-consuming and nerve-wasting ego measurements, nor it is about 24/t vanity fair and 15 seconds of fame. OK, I know life is about all that but it shouldn’t be and between “is” and “should” there is a difference bigger than anything that’s big in this world…or any other. Life should be about (my favorite word) magic; it should be about making your soul play tunes you never were aware it knew. And you’ll never grow tired of listening to it. Magic is there somewhere-you only have to find the right button and push it; and deafen everything that scares away the magic.
Funny thing words are-they can not express what’s most important and precious.
I feel out of place-not again but as usual and though this time I happened to put my finger on the problem that is not of much help (if any) because I have to confront and simply reconcile with a fact and facts can not be argued let alone modified. I don’t feel and think correspondingly to my age. There. People my age are supposed to be settled down, with families of their own, with minds focused on their careers, their children’s education, picnics on the weekends etc real life’s must-dos. And I…keep away from all that fuss as if it is a contagious and lethal decease. Sometimes I am a fool in my own eyes with that teenage-like escapistic mindset of mine that I wouldn’t let go even though it backfires at me stronger and stronger with each new eye wrinkle. There’s no fun in being mature-it’s like a final verdict with no appeal, it’s like a permanent label on the forehead stating “Game over”. I can not comply with that. I need to believe the best in life is yet to come because that adds enchantment to each new morning and keeps my senses alive. I don’t want to give up the excitement of the unexpected.
On Monday evening, September 13th (yes, the Placebo gig again), when I entered the venue and chose my spot I was 7th row. With a bit of vigilance and persistence (without being pushy or rude of course) I managed to move a couple of rows closer to the stage. It was a nice spot. But! I took a look around and felt like an ugly duckling crashing a party-I was twice the age of all the kids surrounding me. To say I felt awkwardly doesn’t even come close. What was I doing there? What the hell was I thinking?! But then “Nancy Boy” started and blew away all those nasty doubts and real life and its limitations evaporated. I had wished for magic that night and it was pure magic that I got; my soul opened to collect all the joy it had been missing-just like a dry land welcomes a long awaited rain. I felt young, I felt alive. And, God, it felt good!
And now, just as I do every day, I ask myself: what do I want out of life? ‘cause it feels as if I’m just filling in for someone who’s away. I want…
I want my heart singing with rapture; I want to greet each new day with a smile; I want to walk on the bright side of life and be through with hiding behind shades and black clothes; I want to trust people more and stick around long enough to allow them to surprise me in a good way instead of running instinctively away; I want to allow myself to be happy with no questions asked and no ifs and buts; I want to be content with who I am, where I am and with what I have instead of wishing I was somewhere else doing something else; I want my eyes to widen with delight; I want the breath of life to smell of lilac and caramel candy.
Not the modest wish list…nor the easiest. But that’s the charm of dreams-even the wildest ones are guilt-free.
posted by balance at
4:11 PM
4 Comments:
This is the blog I write every day... in my mind ...
Wanted to write it down, was thinking about doing it just a few days ago, and now... I am reading it on your page...
And the feeling when you read your own thoughts and your own words, in another person's blog... well... it's...
It's damn hard. And you are fucked up after.
Why? Do you feel robbed? Why would you? It’s not very often that you see your mind’s reflection in someone else’s, right? It has happened to me 4 times I think. And the first time it was indeed a shock but also a relief as well. I wasn’t the only one! I wasn’t the freak I was taking myself for! There are others just like me! And it is that thought that keeps me going.
I have a message for you-a song that I know you know but it is on repeat in my mind for a second day now and the lyrics really cheer me up :)
click me
“Don’t let them have their way…”
Really.
No no no... I am sorry for that. I do not feel robbed. :-) it's nothing like that!
It's just hard when you read someone else who is describing your own feelings. And you are shocked, like you said.
It is some kind of relief,... maybe... but I don't think it helps as much as I would like.
In the end you are always alone, sitting and thinking about it all. And you don't feel safe or happy or calm down and in those moments you can not think positive.
OK. The rest I deleted. I don't want to write it all down.
Not here.
I am sorry if you misunderstood my first comment.
And thank you for the song.
:-)
Nice try, darling, but I’m the queen of depression and I’m not surrendering my throne without a fight ;)
You seem to be having a hard time and I’m at a loss how to cheer you up :( Maybe the gloomy autumn weather affects your mood, hmm? Doesn’t it get better as time goes by? With age, that is? There’s no change in my situation for the past 10 years (and if I say 20 it won’t be an overstatement). The only thing that has changed is how I react to it. I am now much stronger emotionally; sure I get sad, sometimes extremely sad, but not so often as before. And, yes, when I’m sad I’m sad and that’s it-I have to go all the way down and let sadness consume me completely and only then I can start climbing up.
You meant to say something else as well but deleted it-you didn’t have to. I don’t think there might be anything in your mind that would shock me :)
I’d so much like to make you feel better. I just want to remind you-there’s nothing wrong with us. We’re simply different and “different” doesn’t mean “damaged”. If there’s anything I’ve learned it would be that I shouldn’t feel guilty for who I am; and neither should you.
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