Coffee Thursday
Conversation to self
My confinement in this cold room finds no absolution, my thoughts start to compose this page and fill this white empty note.
Unless I consider the plant in a pot breathing, then I am alone. The distant world outside only connects me to this flat screen, if the world is just under my finger tips then why can't I feel intimacy? Language of the physical, my tactile sense fails to keep me company. Everything seems to be forged, a stimulation of a make- believe, it is all in the mind as they say but who am I to judge when reality is never a common ground, no clear-cut definition. If one perceives the other, yet the opposite exists, every perception is translated to the beholder. There is no such thing as reality.
I can only hear the clock tick. Reminding me of the order of how life decides fate, actions and reactions by the humble rotation of numbers and our passing existence. Every second denotes a moment missed, every minute around the universe something must be evolving. I remained still.
I wanted to control my emotions. I longed for pain so I can translate this writing into poignant, delicate and touching words, but only my weak creativity dismissed this ambition. After all, who am I to describe pain when I can't feel how others suffer. I can only think of it, but that is a mental state. No justice could be served to the heart that provides its own reasons.
I longed for loneliness, and when no sound heard or words spoken suddenly makes me uncomfortable, only to remind me melancholy and despair of isolation. As I embrace this silence, it begins to favor me, for what is elusive and forsaken finally resolves itself to peace.
I am looking at myself and my reflection. My eyes mirror hopes of the future, sadness of my past and change of the present. Other than that, I see nothing. A blank canvass in an attempt to nullify failure and fulfill a picture of a supposed beautiful creation. I asked myself this question: Am I the person who I wanted to be?
I must be crazy, I laughed and seriously wonder am I the only one talking to myself like this? Finding solitude in the comfort of my own body, this madness and exploring the limitless and deep boundaries my mind can answer. It is not right, it is not wrong either. Not black, not white. Then what is written behind all these shades of gray? The oblivion of what should be done returns back to my uncertainty, my failed understanding of reality.
Another hour passed, time wasted or profited? The two sides of the coin can never surmise nor dispute the true identity of a virtue. When we decide, it is all that matters. Our volition is an innate privilege to one self, we learn who we really are and the lives we truly lived based on the decisions we make.
My confinement in this cold room finds no closure, my thoughts does not end after this page and it will torment me again and again only with my own contradictions and insanity.