I don’t know what I’m doing any more.
“I live because I can’t die.”
I used to think that way, once.
And, then, since then, so much has happened.
Entire lifetimes I could have once never even imagined, let alone believed possible.
But, now, at the end of it all, I feel like I am back at the start.
A little bit wiser, a lot more jaded. Faded. Older. Just as exhausted.
And I can’t decide whether the memories of striving, yearning, wanting, trying, hoping, believing, burning… I don’t know whether they make bearing this… Void… Easier or harder.
The thing is… I’m no stranger to this place.
But I am beginning to feel like a stranger to myself…
You see, I’ve always been a lot like fire.
Pretty to look at from a distance, drawing you closer with warmth and brightness when the days are cold.
But nothing more.
It’s hard to be more when you’re so busy being so angry.
So busy consuming yourself simply so you can feel like you’re also one of the living.
Self destruction is actually just a facade.
For darker, brighter, lonelier things.
I guess the main difference between now and before though, is how desperately I now desire to be by myself.
I don’t know if it’s because those games of trying to understand people stop being fun once you’ve played enough of them.
At the end of the day, people are just people.
And I’m just a person too.
A tired person, made of carbon and dust, with any light nearly all gone, bled out into everything and nothing over the years.
Because, the main thing about burning isn’t the pain or the thrill or the danger.
It’s not even the destruction (though watching flames devour all that is good, and all that is bad, especially amidst the dark, is certainly special).
It’s the fact that in the end, only ash remains.
And that’s how I feel these days.
Like ash.
Is it strange that I’m only relieved?
…
When I was younger and felt this way, I would dream of sleeping for a thousand years.
I think, despite how bad, so much worse, truly terrible really, things were as compared to now, I never was able to rid myself completely of the hope that eventually things would be better. Even if it were to take a thousand years.
I don’t think I believe that anymore…
Don’t even want that anymore.
I only want to disappear.
Not dramatically, even.
Just… Like a dream.
Like, you wake up,
and…
it just all fades away.
Like ash with the breeze.
Like smoke on the rising wind.
I’m just so tired of being all the time…
And it just leaves me slightly sad… Because I wasted so many years of my life unable to really appreciate how beautiful the world was.
I finally see it. I see it all. And I want to see so so much more.
There are people I love, more than I have probably ever loved before. And I want to be there, here, for them.
There are so many places to go, things to do, experiences to experience and feelings to feel.
But I’m just so tired…
So very tired…
The Revolution Breathes Fire 