A person’s description can be described by its habits, its appearance, its personality. Many are the traits we gather through time and many are the experiences we collect to become a certain vessel of our self. Picture it as going to the theater and watching a show to discover new things in the same show. Observing the very well-known characters as if you were seeking to discover something new or different from your previous views. Only to realize that they were part of the persona all along. Were they ignored, overlooked or undervalued by the expectations of what you wished to see? Were they neglected by the self projection of a fantasy?
Have we missed something important that we might have cared about before?
Every heartbeat comes one after the other for the sole purpose of satisfying a hunger of many values. Is this an emotion you seek? Is this an element you need? Is this a piece of essence that you sate on? Does this really fill the void you so require to stuff with whatever you can gather?
It does help. At first.
We are like animals. Feasting and consuming anything we can. Hoarding or scavenging piles of dust to attach ourselves to. We unlock a part of ourselves, a window to our visage. Slowly opening the lid of a shell and accepting a new gift with open arms. With no clue or care for the consequences. Just this singular objective of suppressing the starvation.
Until… you feel nothing. Calm and in content. Free from the hankering thirst.
That is when the curtains drop.
The end of the show.
While basking in it. I start to hear whispers of reality getting louder and they drag me back to the theater seat. Silhouettes of people reappearing in the nearby empty seats. The vision of tranquility that was once constructed is crumbling and fading away into what we so call reality. I try to reach for something to grab on and lift myself up. But the pain in my arms are unable to answer. I still get up and start to exit the room to a silent crowded street. People are flowing in different directions, some go along together making faces and grins to each other as they move their limbs without trouble. The dampening silence that was once present is letting their whispers speak volumes. Conversations and emotions are shared throughout this amalgamation of beings. They seem to have either forgotten what they are or ignoring the fact that ‘it’ is still part of them…
The hunger, has returned.
What was the point of it? My mind cannot comprehend the vanishing feeling of stillness that leaves its place to dissension and agony. Is everyone around me failing to see how it burns? Or have they found a way to replace these disorders with illusions of their own craft? It now seems absurd to go through all the trouble of masking and hiding the evidences that makes you alive.
Either way your excuses will sound something along the lines of “it is about survival.”
… And I do not care any longer.
I laugh in woe at them.