Its 1am again. Sitting here, wishing things were different. Wondering about how it will feel like if they were different. Thinking that maybe it will never be different and the essence of it all will always be the same. Will be stuck in this little cube until I become a grown-up and am able to take care of my own self.
Feels a lil claustrophobic in here. If only things coulda been different, eh?
But we all want that which we don't have. And never really look at what's in front of them. The goodness close to home. The stuff they can get their hands on. The stuff they already have their hands on. What do I have wrapped around my stubby fingers? The potential of what might differ?
Does not sound very promising. And so I live my current situation in a state of longing and want that may never be fulfilled. Only thoughts of what might have happened to console me. Nothing warm. Nothing much.
It must be the whole atmosphere here right now in this yellow-coloured living room at 1am in the morning. Wee hours open you up like an exposed rib cage to the edge of the sun at noon. Only colder. And darker.
And maybe accompaniment in the form of an unwanted roach.
That which we don't have and will not have. I think about it all the time and I may go so far as to ask for it. What if that which I already have has become that which I don't want anymore? Shall I reject it then? Or try and open my eyes to it. Realise it's there. Whatever it is. I don't see it. All I have is the potential of it, remember?
So when we can't have what we want, what happens? We get confused, right? We wonder why? I wonder why all the time. Maybe I've become obsessed about it. What if it shapes me in the future? I wouldn't want that. What if I don't live out the cube? Stay in there forever?
Shit.
Heh. The bitterness of it. Like an ice pick through your eye. Held there by an ashen-faced boy. What if never ever?
