Life is strange
To some of us, it feels like a fleeting dream
A fuzzy eerie dream that is barely in focus
And I find myself every day in this liminal space
I exist in some half state of life,
Not in full relief nor fading into the background
And sometimes, I feel so strongly
That maybe I am not really meant to be here
Most times, I am certain that I am not really here at all.
I don’t mean “not here” as in
Being absent from the present
Not fitting into this tapestry of life and its moving pieces
Not finding joy in fleeting moments or the explosion of living
No, I strive to anchor myself
Lest I give in to the pull of the infinite void inside me
I try to live life the way people live theirs
Truly, I try and its never enough
My mind always tilts on its yoke,
My spirit yearns to drift away, like a forgotten whisper
Maybe I am not meant to be here
But while I am, trapped and present
I reach out to others, I bond, I weave connections,
I love, live, laugh and I breathe
I try vainly to mirror the rhythm of the vibrant lives around me
And it all feels like false mimicry, at best a shadow play
And no matter how much I perform, it will never be enough
Maybe I was never meant to be here
I find myself slipping away from who I want the world to see
The nebulous image of a person I feel others would like and love
Each day I grapple with the fragments of my being
Trying in futile desperation to thread the fraying edges of my identity
Am I only flesh?
Am I only blood and bone?
Am I spirit and soul, shaped by the weight of my experiences?
I hold all these pieces within me and yet their sum is now only a hollow echo
Of who I though the world wanted me to be
Maybe I am not meant to be here
But I linger, trapped in this masquerade of life,
Like a marionette guided by invisible strings
I yearn for release, to escape this fleeting dream
But I cannot sever the ties that bind me
I cannot unmoor from these anchors built into my flesh and soul
And so I dance, a shadow on this grand stage of life
Twisting and turning in a ghastly performance of life
Spinning and spinning and spinning till the final curtain falls
And fall it will, soon
And all will become still
And I will not be here anymore
Jan 13, 2025
Jan 13, 2025 at 6:19 PM UTC
Life is strange
To some of us, it feels like a fleeting dream
A fuzzy eerie dream that is barely in focus
And I find myself every day in this liminal space
I exist in some half state of life,
Not in full relief nor fading into the background
And sometimes, I feel so strongly
That maybe I am not really meant to be here
Most times, I am certain that I am not really here at all.
I don’t mean “not here” as in
Being absent from the present
Not fitting into this tapestry of life and its moving pieces
Not finding joy in fleeting moments or the explosion of living
No, I strive to anchor myself
Lest I give in to the pull of the infinite void inside me
I try to live life the way people live theirs
Truly, I try and its never enough
My mind always tilts on its yoke,
My spirit yearns to drift away, like a forgotten whisper
Maybe I am not meant to be here
But while I am, trapped and present
I reach out to others, I bond, I weave connections,
I love, live, laugh and I breathe
I try vainly to mirror the rhythm of the vibrant lives around me
And it all feels like false mimicry, at best a shadow play
And no matter how much I perform, it will never be enough
Maybe I was never meant to be here
I find myself slipping away from who I want the world to see
The nebulous image of a person I feel others would like and love
Each day I grapple with the fragments of my being
Trying in futile desperation to thread the fraying edges of my identity
Am I only flesh?
Am I only blood and bone?
Am I spirit and soul, shaped by the weight of my experiences?
I hold all these pieces within me and yet their sum is now only a hollow echo
Of who I though the world wanted me to be
Maybe I am not meant to be here
But I linger, trapped in this masquerade of life,
Like a marionette guided by invisible strings
I yearn for release, to escape this fleeting dream
But I cannot sever the ties that bind me
I cannot unmoor from these anchors built into my flesh and soul
And so I dance, a shadow on this grand stage of life
Twisting and turning in a ghastly performance of life
Spinning and spinning and spinning till the final curtain falls
And fall it will, soon
And all will become still
And I will not be here anymore
Trying to capture this feeling of ennui
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