"Everything that starts sweet, ends bitter ...
Everything that starts bitter, ends sweet ..."
... And the voices ring out in the breeze, carrying lies upon them. The verbal factors of a thousand broken promises and dissapointments due to human emotional inadequacy and short comings. Like a thousand needles pressing into one's being, constantly stinging, stabbing. Like a woodpecker upon the threshold of a tree. I am that tree. And the woodpecker, is the embodiment of the circumstances of reality.
Such is life, I surmise.
The confusion of life could be compared to a cigarette. The joys in which bring us some kind of calming factor, the subtle practices of breathing deep as one inhales the smoke is calming, with, or without the cigarette, and yet the cigarette is the very tool used to help master a skill in which would otherwise would be underestimated. A peacefull sensation envelops one's mind at the very moment, in that same moment however, a part of you dies. You breathe in. You breathe out. The world slows down and the chaos looks away from you for a brief moment. Within the sub-conscious, unspoken, unseen, unacknowledged is one's barricaded peacefull moment. All at the price, of a piece of your very life. I would not dare to argue that anything in life, not friendship, not love, not hope, not even joy is a bit different than this in the deep down core of it all.
C'est la vie ... I guess ...
In the breeze of bewilderment, in the malestrom of confusion, in the breaking moment of madness, one's true genius shines as one bravely gazes into the abyss, only to see the abyss staring back at you, as Nieche has warned. It is in then in the nightmares made real that one truly understands the essence that makes up life and the plethora of different constitutions and principles that co-exist in a beautiful yet unstable balance. I find this insanity to be welcoming, more so than a lover's kiss, a child's smile, or even another's acknowledgement to your existence. No one wants to look where I have look. No one wants to go where I go. And I most certainly doubt, there are many who do not want to go about learning the truth of present circumstances as I have. The clencher of all of this is, I didn't need one form of narcotic to realize any of this. Just another self-brought dissapointment upon myself, only perpetuating my emotional, phyisical, and spiritual discomfort even further as I try to convince myself I'm trying my hardest to find absolution or at the least ... closure. Only in the laughter of the God's do I hear my own voice ring out in the fury of the world, just to tell me...
"You've been going about this the wrong way ..."
And so, enlightenment is found. Unsheathed from the perverbial stone in my mind, the hardest surface in all of creation to penetrate, my consciousness. The ironary in all of this is, if I continue down this path, the hate, the anger, the love, the joy, the sorrow, the fear, and the happiness may not survive the journey. I just may find myself ... indifferent ... from the consistent and constant mistakes I made. Time after time, sitting alone in my room on the side of my bed, with a bottle of whiskey in my hand, laughing at myself upon every single realization of my own mortality and undoubtly with it, my mistakes that spawn from it.
In the end... life, my friends, is bittersweet ...
