Chronicles of a HeadCase

I am restless. Twisting and turning in my head. My initial instinct, to run away, and change everything; so that I may see and feel everything anew. I realized it will get old once again. It is not my environment that is getting me restless but my very own mind… my very own existence. I have to take the next step which I have been diligently avoiding, with alcohol, friends, and more alcohol. I await the time when the situation presents itself, because I am too afraid or too attached, or both. No, I’m not contemplating suicide silly! I am contemplating existence, chiefly our existence… my life. I have been alone for as long as I could remember, a gap in my inner being that hungers from something that won’t satisfy it. To top it off, torn between myself and loved ones. Mind, career, friends and family. All far away from each other, shooting off another axis of another tangent. Here I stand, the crossroads of crossroads, as I jaywalk each street in a cycle of idleness. I grow weary of playing the mortal game, and envious of the ignorant I feel piety for.

Let’s review on the materialistic level: i’m 27, a struggling VP and bachelor, taking my masters in international business, have friends almost all over the world (mostly acquaintances), am quite content with the situation of my surface life and planning to take up a second job to help finance my habits and responsibilities. Doesn’t really mean shiet, but I do what I can to survive the dream to allow my continued contemplative existence. Why have I stopped my inquisitions? I have a vague idea of what the next step will take me, and absolutely will not allow me to play the ignorant and arrogant, not even for a brief second. When the curtains fall, and I leave the dream theatre to exist in its truest form. The pure mind? or living the moderate life. My task here is to liberate all of myself from me, preparing my mental vessel to be encumbered further with the responsibilities of existing. Yet, so much left undone, unexperienced in this dream that I want to conjure inside of me before the circus closes. Is that why? knowing how pointless it is, the humane side of me craves the experience of dreaming a little further? Does that explain why I sleep in an extra 10 minutes knowing I will be late for work? I am a coward to face my reality. So, okay, I cower in shame and depression to experience a little more of this so called life. Maybe it is what I need to be mentally prepared, so that I can destroy the path that I walk on that I may not backtrack into ignorance? This fear is instinctive in nature, so maybe there is some truth to it, and isn’t mere cowardice. I’m yellow-bellied!!! LITERALLY!!!! haha…   :|