"In every man's memories there are such things as he will reveal not to everyone, but perhaps only to friends. There are also such as he will reveal not even to friends, but only to himself, and that in secret. Then, finally, there are such as a man is afraid to reveal even to himself..."
It’s 3 AM when realize you’ve lost hours locked inside your own head, the secret gears and cogs linking with subtle clicks to pull on levers and lift the veil on the slinking truths you hide from everyone, most of all yourself. It’s 3 AM when you realize you’ve done nothing of import all night but tip a bucket of chum into the pit for the beasts.
There’s a box inside me, maybe I’ve told you about it. Polished ghostwood and beveled edges, triple-locked and bound in twine. I hide it behind the parts of me I think can keep it obscured. Ribs and shame and bombast and evasive questioning. You’re picking at the binds, fraying the knot and…
Ever have those days when you can’t delineate where the physical exhaustion ends and the mental fatigue begins, only that you’ve been drained down to your marrow and left like a dead jellyfish on the high tide line drying under the hot sun? And it isn’t a day so much as several years?
Atoms are 99.9999999999996% empty space and that freaks me out, even if it indirectly justifies my feeling so hollow all the time. I’m almost correct in saying ‘I’m not here.’
this made me really think
— Andrei Tarkovsky - A Poet in the Cinema (via armix)
I have no clue who I am, or if I ever did. The concept of that is so uninteresting to even me, that I really could not care less to find the answer - I highly doubt I would find satisfaction in any answer to that question anyway.
The whole “love yourself” movement really is just estranged and foreign to me, I don’t think I ever truly have or will. I think I’ve come to peace with that truth too. I don’t know if thats even sad or not, but, I am just me, I just don’t, and I just … exist. I try to make the most of it, I try to better myself, and I feel a lot, about a lot of things, and love a lot of people - there are plenty I don’t as well. - I just don’t interest myself so I have just stopped thinking about it (aside from this).
I think that is okay.
Why push it? I am… complacent. You don’t have to like everyone, you know.