My name is Nobody. And i'm walking in someone else's shoes, sleeping in someone else's room and living in someone else's life. I know it does sound stupid and hypocritical. It seems so unreal but the sad truth is in life, we sometimes find ourselves in a situation where we can, in some freak clairvoyant moment in time, picture our lives from another point of view like an astral projection or seeing yourself in the glass ceiling of some cheap motel.
We ask ourselves how we have gotten to this or what has happened to us and blame an unseen God that some even do a double take on his existence or get suicidal. Anyways, this piece has nothing to do with God, love and the like crap. Its simply life. The living and passing of it, taken from an insignificant speck in a big city.
Some times when i sit in my room(that's someone else's room), staring at the ceiling, i ponder how could i have come at this point in life where i simply doesn't feel myself. Like it REALLY isn't my life. Logically i'm just getting redundant but philosopically, that's the point of it all. Where i am. Living in circles where everything just doesn't have a sense.
It isn't like me. It doesn't even feel like me. I'm in the lowest point of my life, the lowest that i can be and maybe that's the reason why I'm babbling about this shit. Like i'm in the Dark Ages of my life's history.
I lost every sense of direction the day i lost "her". I lost my family the day we took separate lives when my mom died. I lost my mind when all hope has gone. Maybe it is indeed a sin. Finally i lost myself the day it all got into me.
The answer lies, i think is in time. Changes,-that's what is constant. Nothing lasts forever. It's all a cliche but just depressingly true. That in time all that we have is fated to be lost. That some day we would only all go to that big booze bar above or simply say end. Like what has happened to all that i have taken for granted to cherish the time i still has it.
Confessions.
And in confession there is penance. To despair is a sin. And though this effort at nothing helped a bit by getting all this out of my chest, everyone must pick the pieces of their lives and start anew. To keep on living and to steadfastly hope that one day, things get back the better way that it used to be no matter how futile it may seem..
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