Think you’re escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home. - James Joyce.
Seems to me people are always searching for second chances and ways to start over new. It’s gotten to a point where some people go under the knife to revert the consequences of a night or several they no longer want to remember. Other change their postal codes searching for an escape. But is there really a real way to reboot your universe?
And what is suicide then, if not just another road to a possible escapism.
In a world so filled with pain and regrets, why haven’t we come up with a way to build ourselves up brand new and ready to live and love again? Is it wrong for me to believe that I have a chance to try again?
I want to believe I will regain my figure again.
I want to believe I will find peace again.
I want to believe I will find love again.
I want to believe I will find a way to forgive again.
Lately all I’ve been looking forward is tomorrow, and so everyday. We are always waiting for something. We are waiting for Friday every week. For a birthday, for the summer all year long. Until one day we wake up, having missed our life, having let it pass by while waiting for something. An illusion for a better time. For a better life.
Whatever happened to the idea of living each day as your last? Seeing a reason for everything that happens? Believing in purpose for all the pain we undergo. After all, timing is everything. So why can’t it be applied to escapes?
Is believing that moving away will give us a chance to start over is just as silly as turning to God when everything goes wrong? Silly not in a way that is judged. But just an obvious consolation for our hopeless state?
Is it too much to hope that after all this running we can finally come back home?
