004. Remains of the Day
I sometimes find myself wondering around downstairs late into the middle of the night. Most of the time ending up sitting at the poolside till the wee hours of the morning, letting my mind do some exploration of its own. Engaging (almost too) throughly in a world of could-have-beens, would-have beens and should-have beens.
Technically this should not be an issue. I mean, it is only (instinctive) human nature; the struggle to reconcile the undoings of our past (regrets) and the hope for the future (dreams), right?
Except for the fact that these nightly mental escapades seem to be the only time I ever feel halfalive.
It not like I’ve ever denied that my propensity to let the imagination roan far surpasses even the confines of my mental capacities. But trouble is now, I’m living so far into the past that I cannot accept this. This present is often something that I cannot admit to. Gosh, why is it so difficult for me to accept that this is the reality that I exist in and that I cannot go through life like this anymore. Running through the motions of the day. Just waiting for night to fall so I can escape into this made-up world in my head. That does not exist that does not exist that does not exist.
“Coping mechanism” can no longer be an excuse for languid sub-existence.
God forbid I’m losing my mind.
2 years ago