I don't mind turning the volume up. It seems to be such a small price to pay in order to lock everything up. I enclose my lack of comfort in a reality that refuses to fit me in, over and over and over again. I try, but somehow it just does not work. I remain lost in the middle of an ocean of thoughts, fighting a war that is not mine, a fight that does not exist. I am battling my reflection on the water surface, and it does not matter how many times or how intensely I strike, this is useless. The exact same face reappears mere moments after the destruction. As if nothing had changed, as if all I try to accomplish got lost in the echo. I can't even escape. I can paddle as far as I want, this shadow of light would follow me to the end of the world. There is nothing in sight. Sheer emptiness.
Failure to progress
That was years ago now.
I finally understood that if I couldn't reach the coast, I would have to build something from the ground up. More accurately, build something from the water up. And so I did.
I envisioned my realm, something bigger, sturdier, something that would be untouchable.
I've now spent 2 years and 7 months on this island.
This is the last milestone, this is the point where lingering ghosts of an unforgettable past that is yet hard to recall were supposed to vanish. I was supposed to be freed from whatever yoke I was under.
I broke out way ahead of schedule.
But my heart still has not recovered. And it is not for lack of trying. It just hurts.
Picture a castle of glass. A majestic yet ephemeral creation, a powerful and yet so fragile manifestation of the mind.
It took me more than patience to collect the pieces. I had to be relentless, I had to be selfish, I had to be stubborn, I had to be hopeful. I had to have more heart than I ever had to have before - when it was nowhere to be found. I hid the filth behind a masterwork and prayed foolishly that it would hold.
But sometimes the scar is just way too painful. And I have to let it bleed again.
The blood pierces through the thin walls, it acts as lava and engulfs everything. Ashes are left, but just like my face on the water, they magically reshape into the same disfigured organ. Until the bleeding starts again.
I was the one who created the loop. I made the mistake to settle on a repeating process numbing the pain in the long run. I have a machine in my chest.
I created a monster.
And there's no turning back now. I mean, I wouldn't know how to undo the whole thing, for it wasn't designed to be temporary in the first place. Survival instinct kicked in and never let go until I could stand on my own two feet.
I have not designed this device to live.
This is my failure.
So now I need to take to the sea once again, go out in the cold of moonless nights, in the confines of the bark, starving, longing for help in this universe. Only this time I can't settle for settling in. I have t keep moving until I can rejoin the coast at last.
Because the very thing that was overlooked in the process of manufacturing this well-oiled machinery,
Is that it can't do shit against loneliness.
And god knows, I feel lonely.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E5hpHRKUvWM
