Found in my journal:
Light filters into my mind and is broken into tiny glittering fragments, each a simulacra of the whole, not as beautiful as the real thing. Each is a whispher, a silent note spoken. The darkness of my mind perceives those stars, and is awestruck. And like Plato's cavemen I am captured by them— at first. But my mind searches for the source, and I look beyond the stars. I peer into the darkness, praying that I not be blinded by the aching darkness. I wait. I long to see the real light, the real source. Yet, I cannot. And because I cannot, I must wait until I can try once more. I would then fail— yet I will still try. And try. And try— until it becomes my quest, that search for the light that eludes me. My mind must then satisfy itself with the simulacra until then.
I want to explore the vastness of my mind, and immerse myself in my inner world. However, I cannot do that. I have to look outside to find myself, and in looking outside I explore that inner realm.
I feel like my mind burns in everything I perceive. I feel the frustration of not understanding, yet I also feel the utter truth of it all— I will never understand everything. In that feeling lies a certain satisfaction, a certain calm. However, it does not stop me from wanting to understand.
I want to talk to you. I want to fall in love with someone I know I can trust. What scares me is that I will judge her by her looks. I am utterly confused by everything. And in that confusion, I stand. I don't want to be there, but I have been painted into a corner. So much contradiction... I find myself being superficial for the sake of being superficial.
I want to scream at the top of my lungs.
I want to live to see a better world.
And yet, I stay here and dream. I am a dreamer. I am the dreamer's dreamer. Why? Because in the landscape of my dreams I find some semblance of happiness. I find a world of peace amidst the chaos around me. I find laughter in the middle of the tears that drench me. I find music in the noise that echoes loudly around my ears.
How I wish my dreams were real.
Alas, man cannot live in the realm of dreams. He must pursue these dreams in this world of utter contradiction. He must live, and in living he dreams.
Teach me how to dream. </blockquote>
Previously: No Subject