Hope and Wait

Subjet : A fact of Life

Sitting and thinking '' why the hell do I feel like writing''... why the hell I am so confused about my thought, my objectives, my life. Why do I always want to understand the absurdity of my thought and feeling?

Am I lost in transaction? Am I lost in a road where no map would guide me? Why suddenly I feel like being alone in my room with some gloomy music? I know why: It's a mood; it's a moment where I try to reevaluate myself. What's the '' I '' in me? What's this thing that keeps my hand moving and moving to write these words on this sheet?

I am just indifferent. Should I be indifferent regarding my indifference? Should someone come and slap me so I could realize at least something that would make a difference in my fierce actions. I don't know if I want to be awaked, I don't know if I am ready to turn the page of this chapter of my short life. A story that will never be written because people will think it's a fiction, because publishing would be such a scandal to this pathetic public that we call ''society''. What is right or wrong? Black or white? It's these stubborn Ideas that will never be forgotten because they are meant to be this way. It's not nature that decide that green is green but it is what we call civilization; the slowest evolution that god created. The only nasty creation that Lucifer created was the desire of power. Power of being in power is the weakest point of humans.

The existence of these reflections in my head needs to blow. Blow my conscience; blow my ''I'' in the eyes of ''them''; I am just mad at life, mad because I am not immortal ; mad because I can't stop time, mad because I can't go back or see the future , mad because I don't know if I am living my present profoundly. I wish I could control time like I control my watch, I wish that I could control others even though I can’t control myself ; I wish I could have this magic thing that would put all my feeling and idea in this sheet. I wish too many things but maybe this is why the word HOPE exists. If we tend to live is because we hope of something; expectation is the motor of our days. Why do we expect when we never know what will happen next. That's the whole point of HOPING: Keep walking towards our dreams wishing desperately that they can be achievable.

Worries that our greatest hopes will never be completed are our daily troubles. Do you realize that all you do in life is WAITING? And if you enjoy some moment in your life your next worry would be that these little moments would only become memories. Time is our supreme constraint.
I have to admit that right now it's my body that is tired of thinking to much; it's my mind that wants to rest my body. I'm not hurt, I am not in pain; I m just indifferent about ''Them and I ''or at least I HOPE that I am but the question is what's coming up next?

Again I will wait, hope, and have no choice but to be submitted to my timing.