Πέμπτη 2 Σεπτεμβρίου 2010

Leeches

Have you ever been consumed by your own reflection in the mirror? Have you ever felt that in case you met yourself on the street, or in a cosy lounge bar or maybe as the boyfriend of your imaginary gorgeous best friend, all you'd do was punch him in the face by the end of the day? In a relentless mechanism of crowding one's feelings and patting himself on the head after a hard day's work, how would one deliver his chance of survival unto himself? Is it palusible that all that you are, all that you long for, even the tiniest bit of a forbidden feeling is a deterministic Newtonian result of a memory? Could it be that all a person is or may end up being, is a costant shifting inside his brain, where the locusts of the subconscious keep buzzing the limited capacity of your organic hard drive?

And here we are, expected to make something different. To turn every rotation of our blue ball around its own self a prosperous payday. For it is all that matters. Living it, to its fullest. No time wasted. No energy spent on worthless shit that shall never find its way into one's heart. Dream, hope, love, feel, all in all a bouquet of gruesome feelings for the incapable. For the scared. For us all. For the kids that got lost because they did not deserve it. So insane, yet so true. For all the stained gals that got raped by a ruthless dick that his memories decided to drive his testosterone off the charts. For all of us whose pain will never end reminding them, who they are, how they became what they are and for all of us that defy the higher power. For us who even refuse to think that a higher entity may be running its finger through a tapestry folded haphazardly unto a golden book, deciphering every being's actions.

For all of us who tremble before ourvery own existence and question even the intrinsic function of breathing I say do not dream. Act. Do not hope. Grasp. Do not love. Embrace. Do not feel. Be. And when we cease to be, when our memories of this pave their way across the universe and crumble into nuclear fuel, then a new star shall rise. And from this very matter, maybe a new life.

4 σχόλια:

Τρυποκάρυδος είπε...

Στεκομαι όρθιος και χειροκροτώ. Δικό σου; Πες μου ότι είναι δικό σου...Αν όχι πες μου ποιανού είναι να διαβάσω κι άλλο.

Sacred Chemist είπε...

Δικό μου, δικό μου... Merci...
Να διαβάσεις το διήγημα αν σ' άρεσε αυτό... :)

Τρυποκάρυδος είπε...

Το διήγημα το διάβασα και έχω να πω ότι είναι εξίσου καλό. Αλλά τούτο δω περιέχει σκέψεις που τις νιώθω πολύ οικείες...γι'αυτό και τα 'σπασα!

Sacred Chemist είπε...

Με τιμάει που έκατσες και το διάβασες :)
Γράφετε και τίποτα είμαι πολύ ανοιχτός σε κριτικές οποιουδήποτε είδους :P

Αυτό το κείμενο ήταν αποτέλεσμα ενός φοβερού άγχους που πέρασα χωρίς εμφανή λόγο και αιτία...