Distant Dreams ~

". . and what about love?" She asked.

"A mistake", he replied.

standing at a vantage point, its almost a cruel wonder to watch the world go by. its rather silly, to notice how each person has a different face than the other. . but more incredible still, a whole different being than the other. a cruel realization indeed. we're so arrogant, arent we ? so presumptuous. its almost a certainty for each of us that there practically exists no other world, except our own. everything ceases to matter, but the people in our own lives, the deeds we do or encounter. . the words we speak, or hear spoken to us. . and we only make choices, going by our whims alone.

"it doesnt matter what she wants. i dont want it."

"i dont care what he says. i dont want to hear it."

"it doesnt matter." 

nothing matters in the end. except just the clever one-liner some ancient person quoted to be our sole purpose in life, "The pursuit of happiness." 

a pursuit indeed. we often end up where we begin. gaining as much as we've lost. and losing almost all we'd gained. they say "experiences" matter. . they say, love is the food for soul, almost a silent power that takes over the mind and the heart. a power that could tame a beast, and set free a captive soul, give wings to everything good that exists in the world. a power that could bring back life, or the will to live again. . a power that, in so many fairytales, turned demons back into angels. 

but then i wake up, and  wonder if all these were true "experiences" that people faced. or is it all just a sham. but i still feel the love. every night i wait for sleep, the abyss of thoughts keeping me the company i sometimes abhor. and fear. the same flow of thoughts that makes me want to fly some other times. . . but brings me back to the dark each time, no matter what. and then i cling to the words. to the "experiences". and build up the four walls of those fairytales that practically sums up my entire world for me. a world of make believe. . where i get all the love i want. and i do what i want. where there's no room for wishful thinking, but every color and every ounce of beauty, to substitute all the hurt i find outside. a place where i can drench in the pouring rain on a sunny morning, talk to the ghosts in my head, run wild on clouds. . and throw my head back and laugh at all the vile truth the other world has to offer. . nothing but the ugly. a world where love is a sham. a harbinger of suffering in return for each lived moment of happiness, and all the unlived dreams for more. a seeming haven of peace and safety where after each bend in the road, bullets fly, bombs explode and blood is shed. they say, love brings together 2 bodies and 2 souls, unites them into one. . they say it out of "experience". . but then why do some others only use love for an excuse to variate all forms of basal pleasures. almost like a vacation each weekend. different destinations. both geographical and anatomical. a sham.

but then i wake up. . and wonder if i'm alive. if i'm one of those ghosts in my head. a misfit. . a vile spirit devoid of feeling and sense; devoid of sanity. forbidden by 4 thin walls to "experience" the truth. and the words keep flooding. . and then nothing matters in the end, but that hopeless pursuit.