Self Portrait You know, I am more and more becoming and alien in this world and my life is disappearing together with my past. Sometimes my mind cannot follow that the people I used to meet and went to see or talk to are no more there where they used to be. The house is there and the street is there and I can see people who could be the same people but they are not. The people I knew have all gone. I can’t realize I have lost all those people and years and those parts of my life and the opposition between the kind of life that surrounds me and the kind of life that only survives in my mind grows wider until I feel I am a stranger in this world as I don’t understand it; I am looking for the times, the persons and the world which I understood and which survives in my memory. The people around me in the city where I used to livd in the years of my past seem to be paying no notice of me and I don’t see their ambitions, their happiness and their sorrows I am no more a member of this world it seems. I have come back from the past, from past times, like a time traveller searching for his life; but my search is just a short-lived one and I let myself just be drafted along with my foggy observations of the strange world surrounding me. But listen please, all people who love me and who stand by me I do not want to loose any of you any more. I have lost a thousand people and I have died a thousand times for I am the one who lives every single day thrice. First I live them before their turn comes and I fight a thousand dragons and I put out a thousand fires. When the day comes a second time – yet – it is a daunting day with lurking dangers ready to hit me any time. I live my days a third time when I think back to them over and over. When I foresee my days they appear gloomy, dark and magnetic and I shudder and shiver from a lurking doom which I have to fight. I fight for my akin, my lovers and all who are close to me and I fight for my own existence and I get slaughtered and wake up at night and tremble for my life and then I must go to sleep again to return to my dead body and I try to do magic if I can to come back to life. But sometimes I have to beg and call out for God to mercy me one last time and every time one last time so that I could reconstruct myself instead of going down into the dark empire of death. Then it is daybreak and my limbs are stiff with fatigue from my fights and my mind is slow to detect: This is another morning and this is my day a second time and I march into the war to fight my battle that I have already fought. written by Hun Zoltán on September 29th 2013
Posted on: Sun, 29 Sep 2013 22:24:11 +0000
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