The Voyage of Our Youth

It’s been a great couple of days. I’m starting to remember how I used to be, what I used to want, what I used to crave with all that I was. I’m making an effort to retrace my steps, to unravel this caricature of my previous self and find some genuineness hidden at the center. I do miss myself, I do mourn who I could’ve become.

Why do we dismiss the dreams of our youth as foolish impulses, naive trivialities, as though they didn’t once mean the world to us? How do we so easily forget that time, in which we pondered endlessly the universe we live in presently? Aren’t we disappointed, that of the millions of wondrous ways we imagined this very moment, it turned out this way– rather mundane and unbecoming.

I want to protect that train of thought. I want to sit there and enjoy the journey for as long as I am able to, for I have tasted the destination, and it isn’t all that I made it out to be when I set out to find glory.




Down where my thoughts come to me in waves; smooth and coarse, gentle and turbulent. I’ve never felt lonelier, I’ve never feared myself more. I’ve never respected my right to be as much as I have been lately. I find shelter under the open sky, refuge in the emptiness that suffocates me. And I just wanted to tell someone about it– about the beauty, about the pain, about the nothingness that stitches it all together. I am here, nowhere, and I wanted to ask you about whether or not that was okay.

I guess things happen, and our interpretation of the world around us is nothing more than a mirage stemming from the universe inside us; we see what we want to. And whether we are whole or broken or dust or fire means nothing to anyone else and their reality. I am alone, you are alone, and I don’t think it helps that we face each other as we live in our loneliness. You cannot penetrate my mind unless I allow you to, only I live here. Only I live here.




Seep out of me now, please– I am begging, it’s come to that. I’m asking for an opportunity to discover who I might’ve become a long time ago if I hadn’t fallen into the rabbit hole that manifested itself in your eyes, black as oblivion, omniscient and mysterious

Leave me as you came, comfortably. I can’t take it now. Any of it, really. No melody soothes the ear as it seemed to once. Nothing about this pleasures me like it used to. It’s lonely here, in the vacancy of my thoughts, where the furniture once stood proud, opulent and hopeful. 

So go, please just do. Don’t say goodbye, don’t be ceremonious, don’t be good and pure as I know you are; you know how hard it already is for me to watch you leave, grow smaller in the distance, shrink into the nothingness I once sacrificed everything to pluck you out of. It can not break, what was never unified.