There are those moments when you realize that you do not suit the standards set to be followed by you. You are yourself, but not someone who would take the step forth to conquer all the odds. Some people are just meant to be living in a world created within and not that which comes in contact with the many other worlds conjured by the lives of all.
I am an entity like any other. I am no more significant than an ant trampled beneath my feet. To realize the insignificance of things and of your life, you come to accept yourself, even if your understanding is embedded in darkness and isolation. Is it bad to let the days go by with limbs measuring the length and breadth of bed? Does inactivity exist when the mind continues to whirl images of memories, of desires unfulfilled, of unreachable dreams?
Every thought is contradictory, because there is not a basic idea or emotion or feeling to guide a life. We are humans and thus, we are entangled in the branches of the ideas and emotions and feelings. There is no right answer because there is no right question. Everything is the same, everything is different: Life just can’t be understood.
Who is to measure the worth of a life lived in play? Who is to measure the waste of a life lived in inactivity? What needs to be done? Which direction of the contradictions to cling to?
I am drifting to sleep, I am singing to myself, I am thinking. What needs to be done? What should I do? Where am I? Where am I to go from here?