You see? That wasn't the point. I forgot what the point was.
Maybe that's the point. I know I need to get this out of my chest, I feel the need to write. I think I lost all inspiration. The other night I had some extraordinary ideas, and I wanted to write them down, but I was so tired that I fell asleep. Next morning I just didn't have that... Impulse. God, I don't know what the fuck I should do, with any of this. I wanna write, but I can't. I wanna draw, but for Christ's sake better avoid the world that senseless torture. All I can do is write on my diary, or here, where I feel more comfortable because I can erase things, and think them twice. And just because I know nobody reads this shit, I feel a little bit comfortable writing this in English. I feel less stupid writing in English here than in my diary, I read it constantly. And sometimes I assert myself. Creepy.
There's just something I feel I miss. I don't really know what it is, but I feel that something's missing inside me -not literally, that would be disgusting-. I feel somehow, somewhere, I lost a very important part of myself. Mental Note: check the drawers and under bed. Just in case.
Things are getting pretty strange round here, you know. I've just seen American History X and Seven, and I realized how cruel the human beings can be. How insensitive, how unsympathetic. And it gets me really upset, it's something I just don't undersand. I'm not talking only about nazis or crazy people who murder other people basing on the seven capital sins, not at all. I'm talking about people. About society. About everything we know.
I knew world was a rough place to live, that life itself was rough, harsh, cruel, ruthless. But not that much. Yesterday somebody tried to get out of my head the idea that people can't be good, but he just couldn't. I still belive in people. It just gets harder and harder to keep that in mind, but faith won't be snatched from me. No, sir. But I addmit, sometimes I need to remind myself I really trust that, because there's so much injustice. I see people waste their lives for a stupid idea. Because, as somebody once said, a simple idea becomes dangerous if it's the only one you have.
Sometimes I feel like people want me to hate myself, or to blame myself for things that probably I haven't done, and for some reason -but just for a second- I trust them. But then... I realize that it's not me who I have to blame. They make me blame the world, blame people, blame them. And that leads to a self-blaming for all of that.
Sometimes I wish I could run away. Far, far, far away. Where anyone knows me, and they're not to judge me, cause they don't know me at all, not a spoken word about me. A stranger. To camouflage myself with the background, be part of everything and pass unnoticed. I need some time with me, myself and I. And some music. A bit of selfishness. That's all.
That's all, J. That's all...
Today, Robin Hackett made my day.
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario