In the quietness of the night, I enter psychological breakdown. It all started earlier when I attempted to clearly define my dream*. Then the questions appeared.
Time just passes. Tick. Tick. Tick.
{**} I am becoming deluded. Paranoid.
There's no time to hit the pause button. It is a constant go. A whirlwind rush. Playing with the mind can be more dangerous than playing with the body.
Don't feel. Don't think. I think but it's not me. It's me in this system.
Do I feel sad? No. Do I feel happy? No.
I am content. But it hides trouble.
I hold my head in my hands. Finally some reprieve.
It has been forever since I had a break. Yoga provides temporary respite.
I have let myself down. Partly because of the issues stemming from (It Wasn't Meant To Be Like This (2)), partly from the time and effort I have pored into the business and work.
But it is not my dream.
Tears rolled down my cheeks. Pent up despair. I know I can't keep doing this to myself. But I do. Where I slowly self-destruct. Short term craving***. Long term aching.
What happened to morality? To having a clear head? Seductively clear, but not clear.
To my dream?
Striving. Striving. But what am I working towards? What is my dream life? What can I do now to live it [slash] work towards it?
Lyrics play. I need you to rescue me from my destiny. Interlude. Life is what we make of it.
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* I have to live my dream everyday - there is no other way to live.
** time shift to years
*** for money
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