About.
I want some sort of a disease that could kill me. The manner in which I would sleep and never wake up. I am afraid of death and the pain. Maybe if there is a drug that could cause the damage. It is of no good to just be moving around in circles now. I have had a longer life than many, better than more. Why?
I am a wanderer. I have not really looked into what I do or for what I am or will be doing for. For me every day feels the same. Yet I cherish some memories, those days were different. Life was different then. I do not believe in the conception of providences but I guess there was some yearning or some might that helped me be where I should have. What I wonder now is where is that source? Had it vanished for all time?
I’ve been told my digressing nature will lead to my banishment. I am a quagmire of conflicting reflections. Certainly the great pleasures of life can be recognized by living again, after each daybreak. But there is a sense of impatience, restlessness that breeds in me. “The secret of happiness lies in seeing all the marvels, but not to drop the oil drops in your spoon”. I wonder where my spoon is. I have dreams but not the will to interpret them or to guide myself to them.
I am a wanderer but then the human is a free spirit, free to roam.
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