Relentlessly, I try to achieve more than ever. Incredulously, I look at myself wondering whether this endevour is ever going to reach a demise. Undoubtedly, it is little likelihood that my waning interest in discovering myself is a harbinger of success for the foreseeable future.
Nevertheless, I struggle incessantly with my self-complacency. I do not struggle anymore to repudiate my angst. I accepted it as it had been there forever. It is a hole in my soul, be this an appropriate name for it, which will follow me wherever I go. Albeit I will become what I decide to become, nothing is ever going to bring my salvation.
I am not reclusive – I seek solitude only when I am sick of others. I confess that the lack of company would drive me insane. Alone with my thoughts, conscious of the detrimental effects of my own actions, I would be tremendously haunted by my awareness. In such moments, I wish I had not been aware of myself, I wish I had been less human – the irony is that I refute my own condition as a human being, whilst my awareness proves the contrary.
Wisdom, where are you when I need you most?
“From heaven or the abyss? Let questioning be,
O artlesss monster wreaking endless pain,
So that your smile and glance throw wide to me
An infinite that I have loved in vain. ” – Charels Baudelaire, “Hymn to Beauty”