An empty page is a nice feeling. It stands for the idea that everything and anything is possible. It holds massive potential for possibilities. New beginnings are often the same. The mere number of possibilities fills you with inspiration.
But empty pages don't stay empty forever. They slowly start to fill up. And they keep filling up, and filling up, until you can't write anymore on them. . .
Life is sometimes the same. Full of possibilities at the start, full of potential... but, slowly they start running out of room, until one day there is no room left at all.
I think it comes with age.
I'm just 24. But it already feels so old. My memories as a child or even a teenage boy seem like a lifetime behind me. Or even an earlier life. Just memories popping out from somewhere.
It is age. Age does a weird thing to you. You can't really explain it. It makes you feel like you are more than ready for life, while it slowly squeezes out imagination and "possibilities" from the mind.
I've just started living my life, and I already feel old, and tired and ready to give up. Yet, there is still so much more to do.
...Or maybe I just believe that there is.
Senility can be a dangerous thing. It can seep out the juice from your life and leave you pining for old memories. Memories you can never re-live again.
Yet, I am not senile. I am young, vibrant and full or energy. . .
Maybe I just believe I am. Maybe my mind has grown senile.
Maybe my world has become senile.
Everything around me seems so old. The world of wonder, fantastical creations and good values thrives only in books and entertainment. The world we live in is quite old and dirty. It just doesn't look it.
It is masked by paved roads, incredible cars, radio signals and "modern" people. It's a coat of varnish on old wood. . .
Resignation. That's the word for it. That's what I am feeling now. Resigned that nothing is going to change. That things are going to be the same no matter what. Possibilities seem like distant stars. Sparkling and twinkling in my eyes but forever out of my reach.
Resignation and Senility go hand in hand.
Maybe one starts from another.
Maybe one ends with the other.
Maybe it's a just a bowl of crap.
Maybe I am just asleep.
Maybe I will wake up within the next forty-fifty years and find out that it's a new beginning all over again.
But empty pages don't stay empty forever. They slowly start to fill up. And they keep filling up, and filling up, until you can't write anymore on them. . .
Life is sometimes the same. Full of possibilities at the start, full of potential... but, slowly they start running out of room, until one day there is no room left at all.
I think it comes with age.
I'm just 24. But it already feels so old. My memories as a child or even a teenage boy seem like a lifetime behind me. Or even an earlier life. Just memories popping out from somewhere.
It is age. Age does a weird thing to you. You can't really explain it. It makes you feel like you are more than ready for life, while it slowly squeezes out imagination and "possibilities" from the mind.
I've just started living my life, and I already feel old, and tired and ready to give up. Yet, there is still so much more to do.
...Or maybe I just believe that there is.
Senility can be a dangerous thing. It can seep out the juice from your life and leave you pining for old memories. Memories you can never re-live again.
Yet, I am not senile. I am young, vibrant and full or energy. . .
Maybe I just believe I am. Maybe my mind has grown senile.
Maybe my world has become senile.
Everything around me seems so old. The world of wonder, fantastical creations and good values thrives only in books and entertainment. The world we live in is quite old and dirty. It just doesn't look it.
It is masked by paved roads, incredible cars, radio signals and "modern" people. It's a coat of varnish on old wood. . .
Resignation. That's the word for it. That's what I am feeling now. Resigned that nothing is going to change. That things are going to be the same no matter what. Possibilities seem like distant stars. Sparkling and twinkling in my eyes but forever out of my reach.
Resignation and Senility go hand in hand.
Maybe one starts from another.
Maybe one ends with the other.
Maybe it's a just a bowl of crap.
Maybe I am just asleep.
Maybe I will wake up within the next forty-fifty years and find out that it's a new beginning all over again.
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