19 January, Monday.
The trees of campus green. Are they indicative of all trees? Wondering that I've never wondered about it before. It started straight up, heading for the sky, stretching its desperate yet calm reach to grasp at the flakes of sun, warmth, and brightness. It started straight up- and yet time throws it off its desired path, as though its only sport was to undo all that, finding amusement in the way it struggles to stay upright. As though gravity finally rebelled against being ignored. They got their way, certainly they did. As they grow. The trees no longer seek the skies as their first and only end; they become relegated to the realm of horizontal growth. There is still a beauty in which its reach stretches, carelessly outward.
Is it bitter? The feeling of thwarted time and again, before giving up its struggles to yield?
Is it longing? The insatiable need to join its fingers with the rest of the trees, transforming into a collaborative network that sings its green.
Is it self sacrifice? The recognition of that which they want to protect, over their own ambitions.
Or is it all a mere dream? The dream of green. The dream that green holds more meaning as it does, existing.
I could cry from its beauty. The way the green turns solid and rigid with the oncoming dark clouds. The way the green is almost weightless, translucent and glowing as it frames the glow of the sky, in beautiful, random, dancing forms. As the tree stands with all its might, does it know likewise its power, its draw? Those glorious, glorious green. Those endearing, hypnotizing movements of light. Does it know with hiw much raw.emotions I sought it with, and was calmed by basking in its shade?
With what had I come to resolve in the embrace of nature?
My faults, my flaws, my choices, my paths. I know you can't answer, I know it out of your realm of responsibility. Perhaps I will always only be able to use this as a hideout.
The emotions rolled in like a storm- and yet had nno basis for it. With the last shreds of rationality I at least know that bitter tasting sense of identification as the music from Zefrank's social experiment spoke to the depths of my soul: that I'm not alone. That I'm walking on a similar road as a couple others, everywhere, somewhere else in this heart-wrenching dark world. I am not alone.
No basis for it. No objective truth. The sole subjective reality so tainted, yet so powerfully real.
The urge to stab myself, draw the sharp metal across my skin to feel the loss of control, overwhelming sharpness of awareness so quickly jumping in. Emotions so irrational and nerve-wreckingly real.
Seeing things in the nothingness of black irises, seeing words in silence, filled and measured.
The aall-or-nothing sentiment threatening to seize my consciousness.
What AM I doing with my life?
I'm seized by an urge to run from my incompetency. Run. Run. Run. And never look back- move toofar for wild thoughts of saving, liberation, freedom into either the loneliness of eternal black or a sun that never sets.
There will be consequences. Indeed, I already feel it- the prediction of what happens when there is no trade, nothing to offer the other party.
On the verge of collision with an iceberg in a one-man ship.
Does one jump, or continue ploughing on?
Does one close her eyes to savour the last of audible thought, or burn that with opened eyes and slowed moments?
Labels: Deep Emotions, Vague Ponderings
