pon•der (ˈpɒn dər)
v.

Look at oneself in the mirror and dare to look back with all the heart.

Mesmerizing memories to a distant backpack.

Futile thoughts of control ends in laughter.

Winning the day when we actually care.

Look at thy self in the mirror and dare to measure your karma.

I sit now and write you this letter
For I feel I deserved better
Is it that you couldn’t face the day
Is that why you throwed our life away

Our life had just begun
We were having so much fun
I told you I would never desert you
I told you I would not lie
All I asked is that you gave my love a real try

Curator now of broken hearts
Guardian of hopes lacking smarts
True lies sought for broken alibis
Pondered efforts the blind child cries

Sit now and try to read
In soil of love planted I the seed
Hollowed hearts now will bleed
Soul of a child no more I will feed
Words spoken now I heed
Blind leading the blind I will not lead
Sacrificed the day for all good deeds
lucid nights on waited needs

Weep no more my willow tree
Reckless decision made for you and thee
For you, all was not as it seemed
So goodbye to you the summer I had dreamed

Winter approaches with hurricanes thrust
Season gone without acquiring trust
Autumn looms with a chilling touch
Romance fades questioned too much

I will never know what I did wrong
All I did was sing you a love song

Could it be that I wasted the day
Did I throw my love away
A rift in time or a dimple
For now it all seems so simple

A moment in time, mirrored by our previous experiences.
We exaggerate the chosen situation and make it special, nullifying all the other moments passing through our mind and presence at the same time.

I will let myself miss you. A lot.

Now, is the time to choose. Now, is the time to do it. Now, is the time to become my own personification of representation.

 

You: Renich i lú i erui govannem?

Me: Nauthannen i ned ôl reniannen.

You: Gwenwin in enninath…

You: Ú-‘arnech in naeth i si celich.

You: Renich i beth i pennen?

Vad är verklighet? Vad är fiktion?

Vad är fikon? Finns det ett samband? Ja, vi är alla fikon. Skrumpna små kärnor av skinn som försöker anpassa sig i en värld av tyngdkraft som hela tiden drar oss nedåt. Nedåt åt vad?
Nedåt åt begynnelsen, åt uppvaknandet. Åt naturen. Och vi stretar emot, varje sekund som går. Stunder av klarhet gör saken till en bagatell… För att sedan filtreras bort i en värld av.. Brus.

Vi är fast i bruset. Vi har blivit bekväma i det. Det finns till och med något som heter bekvämlighetsbrus:
“Bekvämlighetsbrus (eller bekvämlighetston) är ett artificiellt bakgrundsljud som används i radio– och trådlös kommunikation för att fylla i tystnaden”

Är jag fast?
Senaste tiden har mitt liv gått ut på att nå ett stadium av Hyper på dagen, för att klara av och orka med allt som skall göras, för att sedan dyka ner i ett stadium av Hypo, inför sömn och avslappning som ska ske på natten. I övrigt så har jag inte prioriterat natt sömn eller dylik återhämtning för min kropp.
Vad har detta för konsekvenser?
I slutändan så tror jag inte det är handlingarna i sig som kan medföra dålig karma, eller rättare sagt; en lidande livslust. Jag tror att det är fixeringen och tankarna som kan komma och fastna, som är risken med att man sover för lite samt ständigt utnyttjar yttre faktorer för att vara “pigg” eller “chilla”. I sin tur kommer detta påverka min relation till allting i livet.

Jag antar att det bara finns en lösning på det här just nu.

I amuse myself with tears. Tears that brings about the dreaded apocalypse.
I can’t bare to ask myself if this what I really want. If this is my forthcoming legacy. If this is why I continue to breathe.

The truth may not even exist, as the thoughts are only fabrications of my neural network – working for, against, towards and beside my ideological ideas. So I’m searching for a solution. As always. Although for once I do not feel the need to escape the daily life and routines, but rather embrace it.

I see you. But sometimes I just fail to see myself. Or is it the other way around?

Anyhow… Change is as always, inevitable, but surely a crucial ingredient in the continuation of this. It’s my only safety to pull if things get out of hand.
At the same time, what is gained? Anxiousy? Boredom? Happiness?

Shit…

I find myself… Have I found myself? Quite a peculiar way of putting it, if you ask me.

Anyway, I find myself in a position of vulnerability. A feeling of low self-esteem hits me as a stone in the face. A stone in focus.
Why, you ask. Because I do not believe in myself?
Why, I ask. Because I do think I believe in myself. At least an illusion of a self that I try to inhabit and portray.

Moment of now, I find myself surrounded by men in transparent uniforms. Uniforms which themselves silently speaks with an unclaimed authority and a household of knowledge and history. A history that I do not hesitate to admire to the very core of my being. History that I imagine I can never be a part of.And maybe that’s the thing about everything. When you can’t have it, you may want it even more.

So where is my contentment?
I can feel it as it ripples inside me, calling for my outmost attention. I can, and I will now feel content where I am and ultimately who or what I am. I’ve come this far. Walking beside the titans of my age and culture.

I came here, through You, my eternal curse of love. Through myself and through the ever on-going cosmos.
…
Let’s jump through the rabbit hole. Once more.