Nostalgia...
I wrote this a long time ago... and I just happened across it:
"I remember when I made the decision to live the life of a cold, calculating machine. After so many mistakes, after so many plummets I felt my heart shut down and my brain disconnect. I then became accustomed to it. Feeling a strange exacting nature to the movement of my heart, which I can only describe as a perfect, faceless gear. It embraces you. It feeds everything you could want with its own self-sustaining nature. But it feels so empty.
I'm reminded some days of the warmth that resides inside me. The stainless perimeter that encloses everything I am melts away, and I feel myself beating, breathing, living. This heat is so different from the steam that is merely a by-product of progression. I revel in these experiences, fleeting as they are. I'm reminded of everything I want, the things that can't be stilled or suffocated; The passions of a dynamic, growing being, and not a machine bent on self-preservation. I feel so alive and inundated at the same time by every belief, every hope, every desire, every dream and every fear of losing these things.
I find it so ironic that the events and people that remind me of this warmth are things out of my reach, things that will never be able to make me as happy as I could hope. It feels as if my own heart is playing a cruel joke on itself, for the benefit of each steel beam that begins to regain its form around my mind. So ironic and so painful.
On nights like these, I feel the machine in me overpowering the breathing, the organic. The hopeful warmth of my heart is smothered by a realistic engine which runs on nothing more than a clock.
I'm reminded of a truth that I hold fast to in this world: The self-centered ambiguity of love, and how it morphs to meet the whims of its creator, while crushing the insignificant."
I say a lot of things, and my plans change constantly. It isn't that my goals change... but my path alters every second of every day. When I read this though... I felt the visceral truth of it, and I remember how I felt writing it.
There are demons that no one can escape, and there are holes that can't be avoided.
"I remember when I made the decision to live the life of a cold, calculating machine. After so many mistakes, after so many plummets I felt my heart shut down and my brain disconnect. I then became accustomed to it. Feeling a strange exacting nature to the movement of my heart, which I can only describe as a perfect, faceless gear. It embraces you. It feeds everything you could want with its own self-sustaining nature. But it feels so empty.
I'm reminded some days of the warmth that resides inside me. The stainless perimeter that encloses everything I am melts away, and I feel myself beating, breathing, living. This heat is so different from the steam that is merely a by-product of progression. I revel in these experiences, fleeting as they are. I'm reminded of everything I want, the things that can't be stilled or suffocated; The passions of a dynamic, growing being, and not a machine bent on self-preservation. I feel so alive and inundated at the same time by every belief, every hope, every desire, every dream and every fear of losing these things.
I find it so ironic that the events and people that remind me of this warmth are things out of my reach, things that will never be able to make me as happy as I could hope. It feels as if my own heart is playing a cruel joke on itself, for the benefit of each steel beam that begins to regain its form around my mind. So ironic and so painful.
On nights like these, I feel the machine in me overpowering the breathing, the organic. The hopeful warmth of my heart is smothered by a realistic engine which runs on nothing more than a clock.
I'm reminded of a truth that I hold fast to in this world: The self-centered ambiguity of love, and how it morphs to meet the whims of its creator, while crushing the insignificant."
I say a lot of things, and my plans change constantly. It isn't that my goals change... but my path alters every second of every day. When I read this though... I felt the visceral truth of it, and I remember how I felt writing it.
There are demons that no one can escape, and there are holes that can't be avoided.
posted by Anonymous at 8:26 PM
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