Walking away

Everything seems vaguely fluid, without a constant state of being. I feel connected to every single element that extends generously to grasp my palm, grip it tight, and reassure me that I am not exclusive, not abundant at the same time.

Its as if I've been staring into the light for enough time now that I can't see the darkness anymore. (I couldn't have seen darkness anyway)
But I'm not comfortable, because I feel at home in the dark, and the spotlight that is getting increasingly hot is trying to eradicate that thinly veiled layer of anonymity and falsehood I have sought shelter within.
Its not the placid, calm light that lights up a street or the living room. It is sharp, and sears my skin.

Well, its not going to accomplish much, for I have already had many a hole burned right through me. It feels like a torn brittle white transparent piece of paper being held up by tiny invisible strands of dried up glue and an unspoken agreement with the listless wind.

Yet, I remain nonchalant and come to terms with the fact that I've been holed up
in.. a.. hole..
And I don't want to climb out, not because I'm afraid, but because I don't like what's on the outside.

I want to reach out and communicate with nostalgia, give him a great big handshake and never speak to him again.
For there have been no glory days of the past.
Just days - Long, tiresome, never-ending days filled with false hope and lies.
Is 'lies' too strong a word? Maybe.
But since I have already said it, there is no point reiterating the fact that I don't care.

I have tried to walk along the path of time, but I keep moving in circles, concentric circles with no ambition or grip on reality. Life has begun to take its own course, unguided and furious.
As uncontrollable as it already is, life is also like a bunch of grapes.

Grapes are fun fruit. You could spit seeds at other people, simply throw them about, or just squish them between your toes.
I like to toss them as high up in the air as possible and attempt to catch them in my mouth. Of course, they always end up hitting me in the eye.

"Why do you repeatedly hit my eye, oh grape?"
"If you'd stop looking right at me with intense concentration, I might do otherwise."


Yes, life is a bunch of grapes. It's all about having some fun, but once you begin to focus really hard, you get knocked off your feet. And you are laid down in a state of paralyzing dismay for the rest of your life, or until you get over it.


Or you could simply choose to walk away...