tanja

Here am I, before you again - prostrating. Looking past its difficult to discern between reality and illusion. (In such cases, one may very well live in illusion because its, well, nicer. )

My recollections crack and shatter as soon as I step on them. The fragments fall below my ice-cold ego and onward I ride the carousel of life. I relish feeling so alienated and alone, because I know Im one of the few to face their ego. I dissect my faults to pieces until I decide to cut myself a break and have another cigarette. There are so many in the world - where have I been?

I awaken from this slumber with my eyes still closed, a fantasy glue mending my eyelids, binding them and blinding me until I completely awaken. Im playing my nerves like an instrument - plucking them. Wouldnt it be funny if you had a seizure? a coworker asked you.
No, it wouldnt.

Let me try to decipher all the codes of this world, tripping up your plans until they arrest me for lying. I have not a thing - Ive given it away or sold it. Im here for a little bit, but I have somewhere to go. Remember, I am trying to escape my ego.

I am trying to escape the stopping sirens below.

So what if I live in a world of illusion? Since real life depresses me so, I would say Im entitled to my fantasies. Its not that I dont know Reality - Ive dealt with him on many occasions. He and I are cordial, but not exactly friends.

I feel as though I need something, only I know not what. I sit here barely keeping my face above water, being pulled down by terribly obvious thoughts I want to rid myself of.