I was standing on a street corner feeling tense. Perspiration dripping down my face, my feet edged on the curb beside the road as my heart beat out of control.
Hearing a sound like a blast, I set off. My legs burned. I had been running so long, but I was still so far away from knowing. So, I ran on. Like a thirsty soul coming from the Sahara to find a crystal blue oasis, my head carried me further than my body could go. And I flung myself into the the sand of despair, knowing how close it was that I had to go. For I saw that sweet water and knew very well I could never touch it.
These dreams follow me into sweet nights. They follow me and burden my existence. I wish they would stop. Even more, I wish they weren't telling me something in my unconscious is troubled. What was I running after in the dream? - Answers to questions.
The night now is fast, swift to the point of bringing about utter darkness. The days are cold, and hope tastes stale. Being where I am, originality seems distant, and I am no old, veteran traveler. I am no closer to my dreams.
Frightening how much everything stays the same. The same streets. The same bars. The same people. The same conversations.
The same. No change. Idle feelings, emotions.
Cold. - The very word sends shivers down my spine. When I am cold, I am mechanical. No Id prevails, no superego dominates. It is all Ego. Mediocrity reigns.
At this pace, I shall never be happy. Maybe that is why my dreams worry me the most. I don't even know what I want. I just know I don't want to be here, stuck.
I need to dive into something and just forget. Only a short time to go, I can hold out.
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