Blinded by the Forthcoming Time

Perhaps the mere knowledge of my inevitable departure secures the twisted fate of such distraught thoughts of opposition. As if just merely knowing was an apocalyptic crime punishable by an ironic end. Though one must endure such venom coursing through my constricted vessels, tense with agitation, my pupils involuntarily dilate as if I appear to be suffocating from a stubborn reincarnated tumor along my narrowed trachea. Such nearly fatal pulmonary parenchymal alterations met with seemingly acceptance as each gulp of air reflects the faceless reality of the morbid situation. With each breath paves way an exit route. The direction no longer matters like converging trains bound by the stiff law of the railroad tracks. As if life walked me towards the light but blinded me in the process. Upon the guidance sprouted pure chance. Unfortunately dabbling through such delights lifted the veils to my vulnerability, unsheathing a gloom plague over my drain life. Alas, Lucifer lied by sealing my contraband heart's confinement. So be it shall I continue to drag my accursed corpse along the desert-like journey to over the horizon. Such is I the pathetic fool to grasp a drink of sand in this oasis. And for what purpose is to perpetuate this cycle of pitiful temptatious act and to annihilate one's innocence? There is no force that can withstand the opposing juggernaut. However, there is a silver lining (which I first heard this phrase from her), and that is the reversal. The reversal of time. It is indefinite whether I may fall susceptible to reunite with the cycle, but if so be the case, and then may life again uproot hope from the soil of innocence and grow by the tears of happiness. "And let there be light" to help as well. And perhaps one day this flimsy abstract product solidifies its stance on earth as a fortified trunk of real and definite matter. Under the growth of this tree will I (and not Buddha) succeed in the completion of my epic quest in search of enlightenment. Perhaps this abstract depiction obscures the analogy pertaining to my own life. But like a convexed mirror, even flaws cannot hide from the reflection. Instead, they implode. Or so it looks. Maybe you understand or maybe you're detached from comprehension just like that loose LCD connectivity problem that I somehow just never manage to troubleshoot. Hopefully your parahippocampal gyrus is functioning properly to comprehend that. Oh well, that concludes tonight's incoherent rant.

Well, picking up from last night's rant... what options are left for me to choose? I can act like an inconsiderate snob. After all, this sudden turn of face will result in abhorring my hidden nature. Isn’t that my forgoing intentions; that is, to demonstrate sincere appreciation by whatever the means? Let the color of the water painting of my paper heart bleed through. Drenched wet, the sheet may disclose cognition when realization of its hairline chasms slowly ripples the very thin boundaries of instable cohesion to allow the epiphany of turbid repercussions. Anyways, I’m deviating from my discussion. Perhaps an algorithm for dealing with such situations is in order. Albeit multiple the problem's factors, they all lead straight towards a common source where ascertaining the core formula may require a light touch of logically conclusive psychology. The simple-minded approach is a linear yet addlepated progression towards a dilemma, where one is led in between two disconcerting choices. Absolute hatred or a showy false impression of a want-to-be hatred. The latter, being the one lacking clarification as of this point, is essentially self oppression, dealt with a live flooded with lies. Let’s venture to the genesis of mankind, where evil lurked since the first man clubbed his neighbor. Vexed into a tainted vortex of deception, which is so called earth now, and surrounded by the pounding drums of opposition, we view ourselves generations back to notice our lives haven't changed much since. We all remain mesmerized by our selfish desires and needs that even we are subjected to our romanticized dreams that further enhance our indulgences. Home and all things good centralize what is perceived as a stately sanctuary, untouched by all things poisonous. The serpent needs not dwell though because all around deception mirages the surroundings know it or not. Carelessly, we live life as normally as we can without knowing that our eyes have been shut since the dawn of time. Once again to reiterate. In the grand scheme of enlightenment, this is the paradigm change. Oh dear, once again I have partially let astray my subject of discussion. Alas, where was I? I ask that because I’m also not quite sure where my position stands at the moment. Perhaps I should continue to ponder on how I should act upon pinching myself that reality is at hand and lingering through dreams may not possibly be the appropriate action while my reincarnated life once again commences its entropy management. Now, having said all this, we must find the key to remediate the notorious situation. Perhaps to relieve you of all sensible duties is to abolish the twig that sustains my existence. To do so requires my guidance that will lead to my ultimate sacrifice. That is to say set myself up for failure, so being an illusion of the heart, both very much heart-breaking cliché phrases. Anyways, delving into the matter, I am given the option to employ a carefree mindset, where the goal being emancipation of any affectionate terms. I suppose this may be a little harsh though. So being a bit more realistic and taking it down a level, I can temporarily change my nature by becoming a jerk. It’s a steady painless process of absolute detachment. Although for this plan to fully succeed, I must not lift the veil to what is behind that faceless Chinese opera mask and show my genuine nature. Why must I persist such painful endurance, you may ask? The answer lies within my linearly steadfast response, defaulted in the folds of my brain when our eyes first met: the clear memorable promises I made and know I will be able to manifest my words with loyalty. These promises that shield us from the serpiginous aura that try to shatter the glass dome framework have already protected us against Satan’s eternal and crushing embrace. First, I promised to continually support you. That is quite a realistic promise, but there's a trick to that. What defines support? I can support you by abandoning you. No longer will I be the subject to your procrastination. Perhaps to you, with this change of heart and mind, I am, in your eyes, belittled to mere fetters that bind you from achieving your optimum potential. Take away the ties, and the problem is solved via quid pro quo; trade me for success (despite its inhuman beckon). Secondly, I promised I would never leave you. Once again, twisted this covenant. I take my inevitable departure to physically remove myself from your life temporarily, but a part of me has and always will stay with you. Memories, they will persist to remain and perhaps even grow like fuzzy green mold forming on a warm summer's day. I’d naturally relate myself to the rock on which the mold resides, but the analogy extends unrealistically by comparing me to such a hunk. Alas, another parahippocampal gyrus check and comic relief from such a stern self expunging conversation. Anyways, this I call the anti-plague that I left my spiritual self with you. A piece of mind, a piece of cake. As to be so kind, I insist you partake.

Behind me, perhaps I should discontinue this seemingly endless post, but alas I shall proceed in tormenting your strained pupils with my nonsense. Well, where was I now? It’s been three days after the incident and perhaps I have not encountered that crushing storm that I am expecting soon. Or perhaps I lucked out with my optimistic perspectives that such a reaction only hides within the shadows of pessimistic discomfort. Nevertheless, the thought of what happened remains freshly haunting my frontal lobe these past few days. In actual, my endeavors to avoid such thoughts succeeded to a certain extent but as daytime forgetfulness steadily ensconced into its caliginous sheets, the inexorable truth of reality grasps the opportunity upon the falling sun, leaving but an intolerable shutter as time begins slows down. The sunset seems redder than usual and within this Californian burning zone, the kaleidoscopic atmosphere shifts according to the polluted ash-filled air, a familiarly derisive mimicry of my personal complications. This feeling of unease that begins to burn within me tackles my bewildered mind, anxious to extinguish the impaling sensation. To my surprise, I was near a lake. As I heaved my comatose corpse to the muddy edges, the water's reflection ceases me by my mind. What’s this I see? Hollow and lifeless, a caricature of whom I have become. And the sky behind my reflection with its colossal allochromatic crimson becomes the waves, in which I surf my life in seek of that moonlight smile, glistening within the overcoming shadow. I guess I’ll mention about this last post in the next one since this one is already so long. Perhaps you may find my dithyramb to be slightly incomprehensible, but know that you're not alone in this fragmentation. Oh yes, and I humbly apologize for having you bear with me as you read such myopic font.