Does this infatuation come from the heart or the mind?
It's hard to say.
The absence of your presence inflicting a dull gentle pain.
You speak to me in my dreams, words which blur when I awake.
The touch of your hands ingrained in my memory.
Soft skin, covered in colour and shapes.
Am I in your thoughts, as you are in mine?
The fear that our connection has been left behind.
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Do you ever just get to that point, whereby you no longer know why you're doing something? It's like, you've been doing it for so long, that it's simply become habitual. Without even realising, you gradually stopped thinking about what you were doing, as your brain slowly switched onto autopilot. Then, one day, you suddenly look up and find yourself wondering, "How exactly did I get here? Why am I even here? Am I actually happy?"
Despite everything I've been through, everything I've done, I still somehow find myself getting complacent at times. I get up, I go to yoga, I buy my groceries, I meet my friends, I eat some cake and then the day is gone. The week often goes by in much the same fashion and just like that, before you know it, a quarter of a year has passed and what, pray tell has been achieved? What has changed? How have I changed?
The thing is, it is precisely this comfort, this routine, which is so subtle in its suffocation, that it will often go by undetected, only occasionally being exposed before it's too late and the damage of our wasted years is done.
In reality, it's not just about the time we waste on our virtual lives, wiling away our precious hours, attempting to attain virtual acclaim, but it is also about all those moments, both fleeting and lengthy, whereby we fail to really even be present in them. Those times when you arrive at your destination, yet, can't remember the journey, because it was so routine, you stopped even observing it. Or the food you ate, but aren't able to comment on the taste of, because you were multitasking at the time.
The more routine our lives become, the less apart of them we are. The more secure we are in our stability, the less inclined we are to push ourselves to grow. Yet, if we're not really 'here' and we're not attempting to evolve, then surely we've disintegrated into the nothingness.
I mean, it's no wonder people have drug and alcohol related addictions and it's in no way surprising that so many people battle with food, with their bodies, with themselves. Who wouldn't, when wading around in the nothingness, lost in the mindless routine! In all truth though, how is anyone supposed to find fulfillment, happiness and purpose if their experiences in life are so limited by consistently doing/seeing/feeling the same things, time after time?
It's when we're shook, when we're pushed, when we're afraid, when we're uncomfortable, when we seek out the new, the unheard, the unseen, the unfathomable, that we truly begin to scratch at the surface of what our life has to offer. It takes letting go of what we have, in order for our hands to be free to grasp onto something more. It's time, now is the time to let go.
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In search of closure. I need to find peace with this situation. Resolve matters, either way. My heart is fractured. Shattered. A bed of emotion built on lies. A complete illusion. A fabrication.
Which leads me to question - what constitutes as love? Do we need to really know someone to love them and if so, how, if we may never truly know anyone, do we do this? Is love an illusionary state? Must it be reciprocated to be considered real? Is real love ever lost? Or does it simply evolve as we ourselves do?
So many unanswered questions.
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