I'm not even that old, yet all I dream about is to be able to just sit there, staring at the sky while drinking a cup of cocoa rum. No thoughts, no regrets, just peace.
Sometimes I wonder if I've been taking things for granted. Sometimes I wonder if I've been postponing too much and decay too soon. Sometimes I wonder if only I can be swift in making decisions, in taking actions, in pursuing the present. Would things be different? Would I not decay this fast?
I can never tell these days. My thoughts are getting emotionally hollow. I practice mindfulness more, yet I feel less like myself more and more with each passing moments.
I knew things, but now I just blindly grasp into the outline of their concept without actually know if I know. I understood things, but now they're just wisps of imagination that I heed no further attention with no interest at all. But I've always made that decision to look back and imagine things as better than whatever it is I'm facing in the present, and I wonder if this is the case at all.
Would there be a future where my present is the most precious moment that I can fully immerse myself in? And if there is, will I be able to write it down and remember?
There's really no words to describe how much I feel sorry for myself, sorry for every touch and resources I wasted into typing this nonsense. I don't even know what I want. Do I want to find myself? Do I want to go back to the good old times? Do I want to skip to the desirable, peaceful future I imagined? I don't know. All is jumbled.
It's not that I lost hope, per se. It's just lately I don't even want to unalive myself, because there's not even enough sorrowness to drown me in. Yet, I don't feel any hope either.
I just... want my brain back. Let me think. Let me live the pain, the laughter, the sadness, the love, the life.
