Last Time

You see someone for the last time, without realizing that it’s the last. You say “see you”, never knowing that you’ll never see them again. It’s the last time that you look into their eyes and feel their presence. It’s the last time he or she speaks to you. It’s the last time that you touch.

But once you turn your back and head home, that’s it. If you knew that it was the last, could you really leave them here? If you knew that you were never seeing them again, how, if ever, could you say goodbye and walk away, knowing that this is it. What would you say? What would you feel? Would you open your heart and say the things that you always wanted to say?

Does it make a difference, anyway?

Does it make a difference, at all?

Uncover

As I uncover the answers to more and more questions, shouldn’t I be facing less questions? Isn’t it how this whole thing meant to be? Why am I facing a dozen of new questions when I truly understand an answer? Is that such a divine force that orchestrates this neverending harmony of convoluted answers asking for more questions? Even if there was a divine entity that is omnipotent, would there be any way that we can disprove its existence? Hypothetically, even if we could disprove the existence of a deity, what would that really change anyway?

What would be different when you wake up in the morning? What would happen if we could prove its existence? 

What would you do if you had a friend that always listens to you? A friend whom that you know to be always there for you. How different would life be? Could you really trust it? Could you really trust that the whole game isn’t rigged? Could you really trust that your friend won’t leave you on your knees that you need to be helped the most?

How can you trust anyone once your anchor of trust has broken out of its chain by the ones that you trusted the most?

We are the ones

We’re fighting against the socially accepted norms in our neural fortress. We have a more intimate connection with life itself. Maybe advanced technology will save us from ourselves, from this empire of destruction that many thought to be the real life. Living in constant stimulation, torn apart from what we are meant to be. This never made sense to us. We are all one, and we need to save the rest of us.

Don’t we all make mistakes? Mistakes that start a chain reaction that cause other mistakes, to a point where the inevitable is unstoppable. When we do realize what we’ve done it’s too late. 

So where is the exit sign? Where is the end to all of this? Is there a happy ending?

Is there an ending at all?

Or are we just dreaming? Dreaming so that when we wake up, we’ll all be together, just stare at what tried to separate us and thank that it’s over.

Thank that we’re one again, for once and for all.

Wouldn’t this be much better? Wouldn’t this be much better than anything you could have imagined?

Change everything

What would you do if you could everything about your life? Where would you start? Would you buy a new car, a new house? Travel to a new place? Make new friends? Master something that you’ve always wanted? 

What would be the very first step? Would you seek all the happiness by delegating the task of making you feel better to external factors? Would you keep stimulating your nerves superficially until you no longer feel anything? 

Maybe you should change your point of view. Maybe all you need is a mirror, a symbolic, metaphorical plot device of some kind that would basically reflect you back to you when you become the single person audience of your own movie.

Maybe you need to start watching it; hit the play button, grab your favorite sip and enjoy yourself in third person with a narrator guiding your feelings their way out of your body. 

Then you realize that you need less cars, less people that disturb you, and more creativity, expression, and basically being yourself. Maybe it’s time that you change something to change everything to turn into the world that you imagined.

This is a nightmare

Maybe I just need to learn to control this guy. I’m in the eye of the hurricane, too afraid to move. It’s spiraling down, destructuring all the architecture of life. But it’s all in my head. None of it is real. Everything is chaotically on air, but this is still a dream in the darkest hour, just before the dawn. We can relieve when the sun goes down, if we know that it’ll rise up again. Because this is just a nightmare, that will end soon.