You couldn't give the first
And didn't save the last;
So now I only dance
When dreaming of the past.

Can someone be so scared of facing reality that they just watch as every opportunity passes by? Evidently, yes. These writings are proof of that. Not that I know who exactly is writing this, because these cannot be my thoughts. Haven't I convinced myself that, fundamentally, I don't care for humanity? Then why is every other second spent in thought of one particular human?

Perhaps there is something to reincarnation after all. I know I am damaged, but how can that explain the entirety of my experience? The thought that all these years of suffering could be the result of a deeper, more elemental sin that I have committed, is vaguely comforting. It could be that I am meant to proceed with this belief, and convince the Spirit of its place in my universe. Or it could just be another of increasingly disturbing delusions. And destroying a life other than my own is a step too far.

I know I shouldn't spend time getting so invested in stories, imagining them as forking paths in lives that could have been. I know that what I ought is to look ahead, to make something of the life that actually lies in waiting, not the ones I passed by. But though I know that fantasy will not take me to anyplace good, I cannot see anything better on offer.

I'm searching for words, but also for feelings. Because I know I must be feeling something now, only, it can't seem to make its way to the surface. It is too crowded up here: I find myself in a surfeit of thought and emotion. How much more can I fill this well with no one to empty it? At present, the answer seems to be: not a drop more. So with a full heart and light head I survey what is left of the world around me. Songs, stories, sirens, all beckon for my attention, attempting to provoke me into response. But I dispatch them with unquestioning resolve. It was all fun while it lasted, believe me; but now it is time to move on, and stop falling victim to the vagaries of emotion. Instead I shall learn to look straight ahead, pretending to occupy the space I am standing in, and wait for a purpose to make itself known.

Self-deprecation is occasionally funny, and consequently can be useful as a social device. But I know it's also profoundly cowardly at times, the cheap joke offered in lieu of action or effort. Why do I just shut off in front of other people? Because I live in fear. All this self-effacing is much easier than actually trying something new, expending the energy to do something, rather than just observing the world from afar, carefully crafting words that aim convince myself how special my thoughts are. But I know that it is, sadly, not true. Sounds that echo around endlessly can seem the most beautiful melody when it is all you hear.

This is why I value socialising. Sometimes, it seems the ultimate form of sobriety -- it convinces you you are no one.

Why do I find myself constantly on edge, in battle with my mind? Because if I lose that fight, I have no guarantees anymore. Every second could be the last spent in everyday reality. I had a moment today where I glimpsed into the counterlife that waits patiently, as my resolve was slowly weakened and I considered revealing my thoughts to the unwitting companion of that hour. Fortunately, I succeeded in suppression, because who knows what would have happened had I succumbed? None would be spared the terror and beauty of what I have seen. Images and words from lives that did not happen, songs and voices that the world can never hear.

Sometimes it actually seems possible to leave everything behind and rejoin my fellow man. All that I need is to stop remembering, right? How hard is that? It is only through repetition that one becomes convinced of something. When taken out of the rut whose eternal return I know all too well, I am reminded that there is an infinitude outside what I do and can ever hope to know. Somewhere in there must be a way out. All I need is a reason to start searching.

Amateur Hour

Hearing a large portion of the Sparks catalogue in succession after a long hiatus, I'm tempted to make grand statements about the impossible brilliance of the songs. Specifically, what caught my mind this time was that the lyrics are surely some of the finest ever recorded, not only featuring one of the most mordant senses of humour in popular song, but being the embodiment of a lifetime's worth of frustration and bitterness. The thought that life can always be more unfair than you perceive it -- how nonchalantly it is all put to a glorious melody and beat.

If I Had a Hammer

"But I'm as priceless as the brass ring
That lost the heat from your hand."

As I let my senses awash in those soothing, familiar cadences, I was reminded of an old feeling. Every little while, as endless thought and revision are forever dispatched in favour of simply being, life seems worth it after all. As long as there is time, I remember thinking once, there is hope. But, sometimes you know your fate is sealed -- as I was ensconced in that mellifluous melody, the conductor's hands gesturing the way to heaven, the dream was suddenly ended when the hand brushed against the table, and an accompanying metallic clink reminded me that I belong here on earth, for evermore.

Parade's End

Whatever lies beyond the rainbow I thought I saw then, I doubt I'll ever see it now.