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What happened after I started losing feeling in my feet, the waning
of sensation slowly creeping north? That’s when I started
to remember it all, and I think I might have smiled as time stopped.
A feeling of serene lucidity came over me for the first time I can
ever recall.
How like a movie my life was at times. There was certainly a soundtrack,
and there were many characters. Some of them leading roles, many
of them extras. My days were laced with shoddy symbolism, I walked
into signs everywhere which I could only shake my head at. There
was a beginning, a middle, and there was an end. I wish I had realised
what it all meant, that I was a movie star. But I saw myself as
my own ficticious creation, a weakly developed character in some
b grade film.
I would listen to beautiful music at every oppourtunity, longing
to be alone so I could choose the melodies I loved which no one
else did. I relished my independence in this regard, even though
most of the time I craved company and dreaded the loneliness that
would do away with me. I was open minded to others musical preferences,
and enjoyed various conversations on the merit of a certain style.
I saw the good in it all.
My my, the people that I met. Along the way there were so many of
them, so varied, so there for different reasons. They all in their
way became a part of me. For the most part I suppose they were me.
There was more of me in them than there was inside me.
How to explain, even though now it is a lot clearer, it is still
ambiguous. I like it that way, I am glad the meaning of life didnt
just fall into my lap as soon as the numbness reached my chest.
I would be a sadder version of myself if the mystery were solved.
I think I would die again, as I think some people have who discovered
the meaning of it all too early. Obscurity gives me something to
hope for, as strange as that sounds.
The lights, they are there to remind you how good it all can be.
How we envy these people falsely, wish we could be always in others
good graces as they are. I was sometimes jealous of them, but there
was no need to be. They always have our best interests at heart
even if we are too selfish to see it at times.
The dark. How we are like them now and then, filled with their self
importance. They have a mission and are very good at getting what
they want even if it is at the expense of their nearest and dearest.
Their agenda is not always clear to those who are not programmed
to see it, which is how they trap their prey. But boy, they can
be great fun to be around. They know how to party.
The foolish. We all get taken for a ride sometimes, we all make
mistakes. These poor innocent souls mean no one any harm, but they
always end up in the wrong. This bruises their spirit in a way they
are never able to communicate.
The brave. Followed about by tragedy yet they soldier on and are
there for anyone who has tread their valiant path. They are courageous,
filled with heart and hope that all will end well. We can learn
so much from them, but much of what we admire in them is innate.
The joyous, they laugh with you, and sometimes at you in jest. Fun
spirits who can make you smile in the darkest of hours. We aim to
spend as much time with these comedians as we can, and they enjoy
the company of we who laugh with them. Laughter is life.
The melancholy who never seem to see the daylight. We humour them,
and try to fill their lives with brightness, but our efforts are
so often in vain. However down they are though, they appreciate
the efforts of those who love them, even if they cannot express
their appreciation.
And then there was me, this incomplete fraction of a person. A fraud,
taking parts of these people I meet and passing them off as facets
of my own non existant persona, wondering when they would figure
me out for the shallow no one imposter that I was? If only I was
more of any one of these amazing kinds of people that I knew, maybe
it would have ended differently. I could have made a difference,
I may have counted.
The soundtrack I mentioned earlier dictated my moods. Walking down
a tree lined lane I was a beautiful Irish ballad filled with soul.
I was lilting and haunting and filled with a mystery people longed
to solve. But hurrying through busy urban streets I heard fast hard
indie rock or even drum and bass that quickened my heart beat just
shy of attack. The music worked me into a state of frenzy as I knew
I was being hunted by those that meant me harm. I longed to hear
bland wholesome pop music at times, live a simple mainstream life
with no drama. I just wanted to exist in a sane world. I was lazy
at times, I didnt have the energy to try and be rational in the
end.
Music should be more than filler in a film, but at that moment it
was just topping up where my being was lacking. The music was so
loud when it ended, all I can hear now is the song, and it fills
me with regret. I loved that song, its tunes and harmonies and lyrics.
It should have been more than stuffing, I should have tried harder
to know the essence of myself rather than packing in the emptiness
with what I saw in others and what I heard in the music that soothed
me. Now its too late.
Now there will be no happy ending to my movie. All the characters
must hear my sad ballad and mourn someone they never knew, who only
showed them a poor mans image of themselves. They will grieve somebody
who under it all was vacant, invisable.
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