I can’t seem to rid myself of the thoughts and images of the world around me that creep into my head to distract me from who I am. While sunk in a life tainted by fickle truths and hollow words, I sing pretentious songs along with all the others. No one wants to see the truth behind the veil and they prefer to turn away from the naked abyss of a soul blemished by scars, trapped within walls of wrath and fury.
How often have I repeated to myself that tomorrow will promise a new story, a new beginning and indeed tomorrow never offered the same story, only the same questions and the same doubts.
You will fail, they would say. You will be miserable for you are a dreamer. I chase happiness in expectations and I submit to a lie created by fools who lack the courage to own their lives and who deny themselves the freedom of their being; a soulless crowd walking in the shadow of their own existence, locked up in chains of idleness and indifference.
It is time to invent a new story.
‘You chase ephemeral ideals,’ they said, ‘finding satisfaction in the abstract.’
‘My dreams are never ending,’ I said, ‘and the thrill of the seemingly unattainable devours my heart and yet, it intensifies its throbbing; I am alive.’