There are times when life calls out for a change. Our love falls asleep.
We always wonder how it feels to have got nothing to lose. To be immune to vulnerability and from being in peril. The fact that we have got something to hold on to –something so severe to detach– is somewhat at the same time an obstruction and a relief. We simultaneously despise and embrace tragedy. The very reason we go away is so that we can always come back anew. Anytime. And we will eventually come back to where we start, at least in our remembrance.
Deep in our hearts, we always seek for sorrow and long for romance, and somehow, home is where the subsequent thing is. Meanwhile, until we get there, we sing love lullabies.
There are times when life calls to hurt less. It’s time to forget.
We can not feel fully content with anything when we are far away from home. We can, really, actually. But we do not want it to be. We are, in fact, very dependent on being miserable: Alas, how we are so addicted to suffering!
In the morning we are indestructible, bold: we deride faith in the search of contentment.
The time the sun sets, we have come to realize that contentment is always elsewhere. We get used to not being contented we no longer comprehend the concept of being happy, until, in due course, we forget what we aim for in the first place. We utterly think about this, very extensively we finally believe this, we drug our minds to be docile at once. On this very moment, we are invincible. Nothing is to hurt us when we are already hurt, nothing is capable to hurt us as we have burned everything to the ground to feel, at the very least, close to home.
The time the moon rises, we rather believe that it is not hope, but solely despair that keeps life make any sense: Ah, woe, how we love to be indebted to sadness!
In the end, we need to believe.
At some point love will fail and I’ll have lost my way.
Just like the wind that blows me, like the flowers that bloom.
We want to convince ourselves that we are elusive phantoms. But we are not, as we are so far from stars and close to gutters, as we are so close to home and far from believing it.
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