Living in an area so gray that the lines of good and bad have blended nicely in one shape. There are several ways to go right, several ways to go wrong. At the same time it’s none against one. It’s black or white, or inbetween. Like a day walker I walk amidst the society of the living dead.
The world around me feels more and more estranged. There are days when all I do is fight myself, just to get out of bed. Things that used to keep me entertained don’t seem to make me raise a brow no more. It’s like I’ve lost my funny bones, lost myself in myself. Numbed out for joy and pain. Yet there’s still this nagging feeling that flows through my vains. Hiding under the covers until the sun absorbed its last rays for the day. I’ve always been more of a night person, anyway.
I’m a dreamer, dreaming my life away. Longing for a nice little cottage somewhere in the middle of nowhere. There’s not that much that I need. Just my furry little loved ones, some paint and some material to paint on. And maybe some form of technology to keep me somewhat connected to the rest of the universe.
Living a life without structure. Living a life that isn’t random and yet so random at the same time. Running away for responsibilities until my head turns gray. Thank God, I can just dye my hair and carry on instead. This world demands me to pretend to be something I am not. And I’ve tried. I can fake a smile and act as if I’m one of them. To embrace something so fake, so unnatural. And we all have mocked those who stand out, those who have in fact embraced themselves just the way they are. It’s embarrasing.
At first I could not help but feel frustrated for having this impediment to not make sense. But this world doesn’t make sense as a whole. People who claim to know, don’t know a thing at all.
And so, I’ll just stay in my gray area. The gray area inside my head. Cheers, let’s refill the wine bottle.