I look around and I see nothing. My eyes have forgotten their old friendship with the night, and its darkness has become impenetrable to sight. I wonder if that’s how you’ve disarmed me. Unable to see what lies hidden in your darkness, I can only read you from your best sides, always shining in the morning sun. So I shut my critical eye and believe even your impossible face to be real. And I shut my critical mind and believe even broken hearts can heal. And I feel. I close my eyes and feel the night lift me and envelop me in its hidden hands until I’m once more just a part of it all, and I don’t have to see you to know that you’re here. I just have to feel. I just have to believe in make-believe.
I go looking for a space inside myself where I’m not afraid of the world. But it’s all darkness. It’s all darkness behind closed eyelids. And the dark frightens me. It’s home of the depths and drownings. It’s desolation at its most extreme and it’s always here. Even through the blinding rays of the sun comes darkness creeping as spots in my visual field, slowly deteriorating the light that shines on the leaves around me. They become black trees, black mountains, black crows in the air. They become hidden against a dark background once such a calming blue, as if a volcano had erupted not two miles to the west; as if lightning was the world’s substitute for the burned-out sun, and we had to make those half-seconds count for days worth of light; as if winter meant something deeper and colder; as if a season was a century; as if light was lost. And it feels like I’m fainting. And it feels like I’m faking. And the earth is on fire at minus twenty degrees. My feet are melting. My legs are melting. My heart is forever melting. And my head is just there, freezing, watching me disappear. Knowing full well that I’m doing this to myself.
The first word that pops into my head almost whenever I want to write something is “darkness”. I don’t know if that says something about me. I’m beginning to think it might. I’m beginning to think that I might be on a slope downhill. I have a hard time really feeling that I enjoy things, people, events. I’m restless. I never know quite what to do, and when I finally do something I’m left with a feeling that I should be doing something else. I’m constantly thinking about different things than the one thing I’m doing. I have lost my ability to concentrate.
I find it’s only when I engage in some form of sport, or game, that I can concentrate, keep my focus on the thing ahead of me. When I’m reading, my mind drifts off to far lands. No, that sounds too picturesque. It just drifts – to problems, conversations I’ve had, either in life or in my head, or conversations I never had. My thoughts wander all over the place. Everywhere but at the thing I should be focussing on.
I need some substance in my life. I need to find something of meaning to me. As I and my friends are growing up, there has come more distance. People are spending their time with boyfriends and girlfriends, on studying, working, etc. There’s not the same time for the long text-conversations as there used to be. People prioritize differently, and I admit that I do the same.
I don’t know why, but I’m much more careful about the messages I send now than just a few years back. Maybe I’m afraid that a couple of poorly chosen words can end the conversation, and then a new one might not come up for a couple of weeks. I guess that’s what you get basing your friendships on writing instead of talking.
I need something that can take all this goddamned time off my hands. I’ve never been good when I have too much time to myself without any distractions. I end up in a hole. I feel depressed. I’m no good at just going out and doing stuff. No good at spontaneously meeting new people. I’m just me, and I love conformity, and if I could have my way, the world would be exactly the same as it was seven years ago.
Much good has happened since then, but I’m sure I felt more happy then, than I do now.
Most of all I probably just need a new group of friends. I’m feeling quite rejected these days. Just a lot of coincidences happening all at once, but the force of them has really taken its toll on me. I no longer have any real close friends. I have some good friendships, but they are all based on something other than just the friendship. I miss having someone who will share their thoughts with me. And I push away the few people who actually do it. Either by being neglecting or coming on too strongly.
So I search for the happiness in games. Which has got me wondering about the border between games and real life. Fiction and reality. What should life be based on? From where should happiness come? The easy answer ought to be real life. But that just goes to show my state of mind. Meaning can be placed wherever we want to place it. It can be placed in a game just as well as a relationship. My problem is that the games I’m in are moving along really slowly, so they don’t offer me anything new for long periods of time. It’s bad, but the same can be found in relationships that move along at glacier speed. They make you feel restless as well. Make you feel as if you’re stuck in one place, not likely to get anywhere for the foreseeable future.
I still do believe real life ought to be the home of happiness. But when it’s not, you have to try to work something out some other way.
These days are when I feel the most that real happiness comes from interaction. That mankind was made to be around each other, was meant to share and evolve. I’ve had a hard time understanding why we always have to get somewhere, produce something, make something new. But I think I see it now. It’s not so much for the need of those things, some inner desire to produce. It’s because of the restlessness in standing still, in doing the same thing day in and day out.
This is probably the curse of the Homo sapiens: We are never content with what we have. Onwards and upwards.
As I wrote the other day, I should spend some time learning how to write a novel. That could be my new game, until real life sweeps me off my feet. It should suit me really well, having a second life in the novel with a bunch of fictive characters who always feel like talking when I do.
It should suit me well.
How light is a light?
(Fever Ray “I’m Not Done”) – Karin sings.
Depends on how much darkness there is around the light. If surrounded by too much, the light will not be there. It will blow out. Disappear. Become darkness in its own. If surrounded by a clear blue sky, the light has no limits as to how light it can get.
Right now I’m a stable light. For sure, I’ve got my clouds hanging over me every now and then, but mostly I’m surrounded by brightness. That makes the days so easy to go through. It almost feels as if they go by too quickly. I rarely lie in bed thinking; man, I really took time to enjoy this day! – either I’ve got too little to do, which makes it not-so-enjoyable, or I’ve got my hands on too many things at the same time – good things – which ends up letting me do great things that I just don’t have time to enjoy.
At this very moment, the light around me is made by Jónsi & Alex (look ’em up, they’re gooood (sorry, saw Bruce Almighty yesterday)). Their debut album as a musician pair is so adorable. So beautiful. So heavenly. So indescribable. So perfect for this time at day (11:28 pm) where darkness flows around freely; covering everything up. That’s when the music shines the most. – it practically contradicts the first part of my post. But I don’t care, ’cause it does so in such a manner that words are useless (why am I writing a blog entry ’bout something to which words are useless? Million-dollar question).
I’m a strange human being. I can’t figure out my own mind. I am yin and yang at the same time. My prime at day is during the night. When darkness makes everything disappear. That’s the moment I come alive. But then I go through the music I hear at this time – often Sigur Rós or (now) Jónsi & Alex, which just lightens everything up. It makes me think: is this the way we want it to be? As ‘they’ say: “opposites attract” – do we all have an ongoing battle inside of us, where we seem to search for one thing, but in fact go in the opposite direction, when we’ve found what we searched for?
First song on the album (Riceboy Sleeps, by the way) is called “Happiness” – very describing for the feeling you have, when the album ends. You’ve indeed reached the point of happiness. Some say happiness isn’t real – it can’t be achieved. Others say “happiness only real when shared” (thank you again, Into The Wild). I beg to differ. I believe happiness can be achieved whenever you set your mind to it. I’m best at doing this when it’s dark and I’m listening to the earlier mentioned bands. Others are undoubtedly best at this when they can share the happiness with others. I’m too afraid that something I can’t control will spoil the moment. Sad but true, therefore I prefer to experience this on my own. As a kid who won’t share his gum because of the fear that there’s suddenly none left for him.
Speaking of darkness and light; people who have tried nearly dying often say they saw a bright light. Now, I’m not in no means religious, but I like to think there might be an afterlife in some form. I see that it’s quite unlikely, when not believing that we’re going to heaven or something like that – especially when ruling out the human soul. I believe in brain – not soul. But still, it would be nice to have something to do afterwards. Otherwise, it will all be like a long night without any dreams to remember. I like to think it all ends with a good dream.
I know who would create the soundtrack for my last dream.
If I was to choose.