bitter
After chewing into a novel and exhausting myself with excercises to salvage some semblance of physical capability i still felt the tang of bile in my throat. For some reason the bitterness lingered for the past one and a half days in stinging spasms of memories and reminders as i try to look to the light. Yet why do i feel empty and forgotten? It feels like staring at the sky in the dark yearning for the light that will only come hours after, but even then the sun may refuse me its warmth.
I promised not to start sad posts again, that the last one would be the last. Yet it seems to have become a habit to repeat my sorrows in posts that only change in my way of expressing them as unseen pain and anger rages behind the alphabets. But still i smile. Still i laugh. I cannot understand that tendency i have to grin where i should growl, to chuckle when i should scream in outrage. To stay impassive whilst my mind tears itself apart. Though i know that understanding would take it away and make me wholly unpleasant it still sparks curiosity due to my innate fear of "not knowing".
In the fictional book i'm reading, a young Julius Caesar speaks of Alexander (the Macedonian):
"By the time he was my age, he had conquered the world. They said he was a God, compared to that, i have wasted my life."
Words that aptly describe the factual dissatisfaction with himself under a statue of Alexander in Hispania.
Was it such a spark of inadequacy that drove him to become one of the most remembered men in history? But most of us should have wondered before as we gaze upon the prodigies and talents, wondered how we might be the ones with fame and power and pride. We may measure ourselves against them and realise they were not so much more superior to us but yet they had achieved what we could only gasp and grasp at. How we would groan and wish we could turn the gears of time back so that we could bask in glory instead.
That is useless wishing i gave up eons ago for its waste of time. If every man with capability succeeded then the world would be so full of successes that nobody would be successful. Perhaps that is the case, just that with the sensationalisation of more public, more interesting events, the greatness within each of us is smothered against the that of everyone else until all seemed insignificant. Or perhaps it is simple logic that not everybody can be allowed the same oppurtunities, that success often came with luck and good timing and that it was fate or destiny or whatever you may call it, that separates the glorious from the rest.
No matter our age, there are still oppurtunities for success, for immortality in our deeds. Age matters not, it is still a feat to conquer the world whether you are 20, or 40 or we can carve out new limits for the world, create new visions and dreams and goals for ourselves. Rather than live our lives cursing normalcy and looking wistfully at the names glowing in eternity perhaps we should consider standing up and engraving our own names upon the obsidian darkness of time to shine forever in human minds.
I wish i would.
and wish harder i can.
I promised not to start sad posts again, that the last one would be the last. Yet it seems to have become a habit to repeat my sorrows in posts that only change in my way of expressing them as unseen pain and anger rages behind the alphabets. But still i smile. Still i laugh. I cannot understand that tendency i have to grin where i should growl, to chuckle when i should scream in outrage. To stay impassive whilst my mind tears itself apart. Though i know that understanding would take it away and make me wholly unpleasant it still sparks curiosity due to my innate fear of "not knowing".
In the fictional book i'm reading, a young Julius Caesar speaks of Alexander (the Macedonian):
"By the time he was my age, he had conquered the world. They said he was a God, compared to that, i have wasted my life."
Words that aptly describe the factual dissatisfaction with himself under a statue of Alexander in Hispania.
Was it such a spark of inadequacy that drove him to become one of the most remembered men in history? But most of us should have wondered before as we gaze upon the prodigies and talents, wondered how we might be the ones with fame and power and pride. We may measure ourselves against them and realise they were not so much more superior to us but yet they had achieved what we could only gasp and grasp at. How we would groan and wish we could turn the gears of time back so that we could bask in glory instead.
That is useless wishing i gave up eons ago for its waste of time. If every man with capability succeeded then the world would be so full of successes that nobody would be successful. Perhaps that is the case, just that with the sensationalisation of more public, more interesting events, the greatness within each of us is smothered against the that of everyone else until all seemed insignificant. Or perhaps it is simple logic that not everybody can be allowed the same oppurtunities, that success often came with luck and good timing and that it was fate or destiny or whatever you may call it, that separates the glorious from the rest.
No matter our age, there are still oppurtunities for success, for immortality in our deeds. Age matters not, it is still a feat to conquer the world whether you are 20, or 40 or we can carve out new limits for the world, create new visions and dreams and goals for ourselves. Rather than live our lives cursing normalcy and looking wistfully at the names glowing in eternity perhaps we should consider standing up and engraving our own names upon the obsidian darkness of time to shine forever in human minds.
I wish i would.
and wish harder i can.
posted by slipperdan at 7:42 PM
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