I’ve been finally able to get into the heads of my adversaries. It was an enlightening experience, although of questionable use. The air was moist with self-confidence and determination. My breathing became heavy, slow and laborious. I was forced to leave with little to reflect on. I discovered nothing, and that disturbing revelation was to haunt me for weeks.
What do people want? Wrong. Asking the question is wrong. Answering the question is wrong. Thinking about the question is wrong. It leads you astray, ridding you of any hope of discovery. Hope, not opportunity. There is no opportunity, there is only hope.
When hope does finally disappear under the weight of severing reality, numbness is all that’s left. I don’t feel anything anymore. Nobody, not even you can bring back the long lost, remote feelings of remorse and genuine sentiment.
The faint remnants of warmth have run their course. Come, sit and stare. I will do nothing, I will think nothing. I will BE nothing.
When you leave, or when I imagine you leaving, I feel a pressing urge to do something, yet I struggle to do anything at all, strangled by fear to the chair I am sitting in on a random day in a random building on a random street. Shameless cowardice engulfs my efforts to live. Meaning escapes me, leaving me directionless in my own self. The streets wrap around me like a sticky cocoon, but it doesn’t sway me – I’ve grown used to it. I embrace them, penetrating deep into the very unconscious: there is nothing there. Nothing I could lose, nothing I could be afraid to reveal.
I have no secrets anymore.
I’ve lost them all by senseless repetition of life. My adversaries have revealed all that was there to reveal about me, about them, about anyone. I have no more to say, nobody has. Everything has been said already. Existence itself has become redundant and the few invigorating moments you and I may or may not experience in the near or far future are not worth the hassle.
I started learning to play the violin, because it is one of the few things my adversaries cannot do. I failed miserably. Desperate to get noticed, I left.
I walked through thick, high grass to find the ruin of an old building I remember from my childhood. Cold sweat kept running down my neck in spastic pursuit of a non-existent memory. The house was not there, the place was gone, the pursuit lost its sense.
The pursuit lost its sense.
I suddenly realized the severity of the situation, consumed by panic. I had, however, lost the ability to let any tension out a long time ago. I lost the ability to relax, leaving me tense and shaky, asking the same questions again and again. Who are my adversaries, you or me might ask.
An adversary is somebody who fights you. But my adversaries do not fight me. They do not feel endangered. They know, but they are not aware of it. They do not have the answer, because they do not need it. They were never looking for it in the first place. I should have realized a long time ago.
Please, do leave. I mean it. There is nowhere to move on, a dimension has been lost. The pursuit lost its sense. I’ve become my own adversary, rejecting my own questions. Getting into my own head revealed nothing and that disturbing revelation was to haunt me for weeks.
Considering all that was left to consider, I left.
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