feel alive

The need to feel alive

Each song brings out a different kind of emotion, a zone, an inspiration to feel alive.

And what’s better in this world than to experience and live all these zones, alone, in the silence of the night.

To glare right into the eyes of the darkness, onto the black sky, face to face with the twinkling stars and a half-lost moon.

To shiver profusely naked in the cold, winter breeze, hoping for the chill to penetrate each and every cell of your body and bring about the hidden feels of what could have been/should have been.

It’s painful, hurtful, to be overwhelmed with all these emotions all at once, but you absolutely have to face them because it’s a reminder that you are still a human.

Because it’s a reminder that amidst all the struggles, failures, survival, you had dreams.

However, these dreams had gone down broken, forgotten, pushed, shoved into the darkest corners of your brain, locked and hidden, a long time ago, not to be visited, never to be visited again.

Unless you absolutely had to. Like tonight.

But, do you ever feel like that? Have you ever had that feeling?

Because I’ve felt it, lived it, embraced it, spent my nights naked underneath the clear, winter skies in the chilling cold, shivering and trembling, almost forcing myself to feel all of it.

Yes, I’ve wanted to feel alive for such a long time… I’ve wanted to feel alive to find myself a reason to live. Nothing else does it for me.

This life seems…random, a result of chance, at best. And feeling alive, every once in a while, even momentarily, gives me a reason to carry on. One day at a time.

Yes, it would be gratifying to finally see these walls decorated with the colors of my crazy, but, I think we are still a wee bit away from that scenario.

It’s about feeling alive. It has always been about that.

Shivering myself to death made me feel alive.

Embracing this ancient pain inside of me made me feel alive.

Drinking, dancing, losing myself to the music; All those songs, masterpieces really, and the emotions they create, the zone they push me in, made me feel alive.

Opening myself up to this madness, the twisted thoughts, the overwhelming emotions made me feel alive.

Writing makes me feel alive. I write to understand myself better. To find my muse, the answers, the cure to all my diseases.

I am what I am and I’ve accepted that a long time ago. But, transforming my thoughts into words will always have an influence on what I will become. What I might become.

Whether I am cured of this existential disease or I am pushed further into places that I avoid dearly, I won’t be resisting anymore.

But, then again, I already knew that, didn’t I?

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