0 com

The king is dead, long live the king

'God plays his jokes on us. Coincidence and luck were little more than an afterthought.'

It seems as if opportunities are only given to those who find little use for them. 'There was so much potential', we'll say. We'll whisper wistfully to ourselves, finding comfort in analysing each fault, every hairline crack that opened up, swallowing us as the weight of our own wants becomes too heavy to hold up. 'If only we did this instead'. If. The problem with potential is that it sways us with promises of achievement and fulfillment. We can want. We'll always want. 

What I want is an opportunity to impact my surroundings. That single, random chance, so desired by so many. I'll probably waste it like all opportunities are, but it isn't about that. It's settling the score with my mind. Finding the answer to the question that never ceases to torture; what if? And while there may not even be an answer to one's own subconscious, it's the emotion that wins, a tide of relief and regret rolled into one. Am I asking for a chance to fail? Maybe I am. But it's a failure I can't pass up.

It's funny, that. How something so abstract could be so wanted. 

'I'm only as bright as you wanted me to be.'
-William Beckett

0 com


And how they tread,
Oblivious, eyes glinting with the blinding tinge that is hope.
If not for our own gripping nostalgia, surely we would warn, scorn, mourn,
But no.

It's the innocence we once purveyed.
Shattered now, but not forgotten. 
Teased with a taste of paradise,
Of which we forever yearn.
1 com

Sharp Temptation

'She spoke words that would melt in your hands. She spoke words of wisdom.'

I say a lot, too often. My crass words usually find approval in the absence of wit or originality that surrounds me. It's an abyss, not one which I choose to fill, but rather one which extracts my mind and places it in plain view for the enjoyment of others.

I enjoy it though, and that's quite obvious. However, sometimes I feel limited. Status updates and 140 characters are far too little for the potential outpouring of words I have to offer. It walls me up. I need a space. Well, needed. I have one now. 

I have no idea how long this will last. My blog might just become another soulless splinter on the edge of faux reality. It might not even last a month. Or it might last long enough for me to actually start something productive. 

For now, I'm clueless. I don't think that will change anytime soon. I'm not really sure how to end this post so I'll let you imagine what I would say. 

People don't create enough anymore.