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Rated: E · Monologue · Drama · #2236918
and delusion and all confusing things
Some time has passed since pen has been put to paper
Or fingers have been placed on keyboards
There is something about the uncencoring that feels the most right
Yet when I do start to scribble
I lure myself back into the editorial seat
Thereby disallowing the complete emptying of mind as it is at its present

Illusion and delusion and all confusing things
I have had, in my young years
So much time to contemplate and to ask life's dramatically big questions
Questions that I believe my age-peers can postpone for a good while, for life is tremendously busy for many
They don't sit around doing nothing
I don't not sit around doing nothing

Such has become my life of late of many others too in the light of recent earth events
People have been asked to sit down and do squat for the doing gets old when there is nothing to
Leastways it has for me
This year past has been incredibly strange and completely unplanned for in all ways
That is how life usually passes for me
No plan
No decisions
Until must make some
Until must do something
Or make any kind of move

Yes I am the odd one out of the old friends group or the family in that sense
But there are many whom I am alike
It's simply a matter of being open to them finding me
For them being open for me finding them
And then for the flow of energy between us to reach in recognition
Ah
Here you are
I have been waiting patiently for you

Yet in daily life we are bombarded with ideas that are not our own
Not at all
Through our social media and news media we ingest information and systems of belief and perceived or experienced truth by others implementing it and altering our own
History is all the same
Everything that has once been written down has still come from one peculiar source
Edited and translated by many others
Why do we put up with it
How is the notion that it is what it is, something to put up with
Why is the norm thought to be so glamorous when there is no glam in it?

I sometimes think that people of today have forgotten about the peoples of yesterday and the peoples of tomorrow
Why are we here? What are we up to?

Everybody has these questions lurking, do they not?

Why is it that I can't seem to accept myself if not for the idea of me being acceptable as I am not being imposed on me from an outer source? Even if the source seems be internal, that idea has been received somehow, in some way. Perhaps in very early childhood.

It is a confusing time for my dear friend.

More on this later.


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