UNTITLED ENTRY 09

07/08/2024

I wish to not be condemned ill for being alive, or dead for being ill. I simply am. I perhaps made home of a forgotten trail, or one that shall never be understood, but god, have I never felt more human! I do not want a single word of advice from those who have not had my life for even a split second. I do not want anything from those who never tried my eyes on. 

When I come across something beautiful I contemplate consuming it because I know it will burst inside me inevitably. I will then scavenge for whatever can hold the rest; want to show it, want it out of me. The number of what can be tended to is torturous. Say, a song...How do you let a song know that you love it? All that is in my disposal to soften the feeling is dissection; I will know the song by heart, by the minute, by the beat, by the patterns. All I have is repetition; I will hear it even when I am not listening to it, and I will recognize it by any note; from middle, by the end, by the second minute. Then I will make associations, through background, through meaning, through similar and contrasting things; what does feel like it and what feels like its opposite. I will learn the world within and outside the song; its contents and its surroundings. I will know its exact place in the universe and its void, its source and its grave. I will chew over the possibility of being entirely wrong, scrap my understanding and start over, be different people and imagine the song different. I will be astonished by its mere existence, by its occurrence, by the fact that it was made once and so now it is eternal.

I have the time to do all of that with every single thing I come across. I cannot not do it with every single thing that I do in fact witness. That, however, still never grants me the ability to tell the world that I love it. The word itself is not enough. It's so juvenile and ludicrous; I can barely say it to myself. The definition is not right in the first place. I do not 'enjoy and savour' the song, I become the song for as long as I hear it. I abandon the silence and therefore I become more aware of the silence. I set myself aside and therefore I can confidently and wholly feel and define myself. 

I know one cannot possibly stomach the entire world, and for that I think nature is cruel for offering both experience and senses. How dare the world be this absurd? Blind me or give me a bigger heart. Make me deaf or shush the opera. Take me young if you find me warming up to the idea of growing old. Take my brain to ruin if you dare offer joy. It will exhaust me anyway! You know it's unfair to keep me in the midst of it all. Give this life to someone who can pass by without stopping, because I will stop at every chance I get. I will stop despite myself and I will be called slow and inadequate, and childish and intense, and ridiculous and irresponsible. I will move without rhythm and discard time entirely. I will abandon life as known if I even begin to wish to live it as long as supposed to. There is no changing this; it's what I am.