Asleep.

Asleep.

You may call me ‘fool’ if you wish…

But this not my name. Although, we’ve never met each other and I do not know your face or name we are acquaintances in this moment. You are privileged to read these last words of my freedom where my only hope is to return to the lie that was everything and truly nothing. Instead there is the possibility I will die in this hell that is real in all the ways that I wished were fake.

Foolish? Perhaps I am a fool for wanting to close my eyes once more. But the realities I have come to see are only the misguided romantic notions of men who are disillusioned by hope for more. There is no hope in this.

Forgive my impudence but I no longer want to know or understand the freedom of being disengaged. These words carry the tone of ungratefulness that I can not mask. I do not appreciate these circumstances that I’ve come to live in. The harshness of reality is an undesired consequence of freedom. The joy of hearing the unmodified voice is better left to others. The view of the world outside of my bubble is less than pleasant.

Real is starting to look all the same. Give me the fake. The lie built on my comfort; a blanket of deception that pleasantly soothes my mind and gives me what I want like a child without autonomy. No need to accept the freedoms of life. Take the control away from me. I don’t want to make the decisions. Pull me back into slavery of the mind. Let me enjoy the wine when I’m really drinking water. Tell me what I want, when I want it and how I want it. Don’t force me to make the choices by telling me what to do. I prefer the absence of knowing I’m being told. The illusion of happenstance, the outcome I can not control.

Do you remember who you were? When you were pretending? I do. I can taste the food, the music, the laughter of the illusion that lived before my eyes in the lie of life. Give me the rose colored glasses once more. I don’t like the world without them. The sounds of life are a plague and discomfort to my soul. Hide them away. I don’t want to see the disfigured man at the grocer’s. I miss the way he looked and sounded in the lie. Perfect. Symmetrical. Happy. Real is broken. Damaged people. Unhappy isn’t the proper word for it. Suffering. They are all the same, suffering around me. Dying every minute.

Liar? Call me a liar, a thief or puppet. Show me what I will become. Take the dreams of others and give me their strengths to become the lie that is meant to be. I willingly accept the strings of attachment without knowing. Allow me to become a prisoner to the grindstone of routine without understanding. I can not fathom the thought of continuing to lead this impoverished life. Only interaction is with those who are obviously beneath me. My deception was far more substantial than this. I lacked for nothing. Actually I had the illusion of something. There was no need as there were no wants. I could live without thoughts. They thought for me. Pulled my strings and I did. I was. I used to be.

Skeptic? I am skeptical and disbelieve the possibility of the future. There is nothing but a world gone mad without hope. I am a cynic, a critical mind that has lost its way and there is no other way out. I long for the idealistic delusion to become real once more. Take away this harsh cold reality. Replace it with the soft warm impractical lie. I wish I never knew the truth. It is too painful to know. Put back the past into my head. Let me live with the fraud. Never knowing is better than what is before me. Steal someone else dream and pipe into my mind. There is no reason to keep going when pain is all around me. I can not live this way. There is no other choice.

Don’t think me unappreciative of life. I’m quite blessed to have lived. But to continue in this manner… to endure this way is without purpose. The quality of my life is questionable. I want the vividness of life restored. This reality is banal and commonplace, beneath the sanctity of my life. If I was divine, then now I am ordinary. I can not be like this, merely having to exist in the world without the idealistic fabrication of its beauty. Everyday reveals more truths that I can not handle knowing. I want out. There is no other way.

I am a fool. And ungrateful for the freedoms that others embrace. I’m a greater coward than you can imagine. Even I know this as I face the actuality of my situation, sitting here dying in a hope that I’ll find peace once again when I’m welcomed back into the dream. There are more pills on my tongue than I can count. A knife in my gut creates a wound that profusely releases blood. A gun rests on my lap anticipating the end that will come. One way or another reality will come crashing down.

I’d rather not know this real. I would prefer the end is surrounded by the fake. But what other option is there? For me, there is no reason to embrace what is to come. It will only bring more suffering. I’d rather not know that hell can get worse. It’s far easier to accept that there is truly nothing over this painful existence. As I lay here bleeding out and fading quickly the time to return to the lie has come.

These are my last words, the reflections of a fool. Goodbye stranger, my unseen acquaintance, I hope your reasons for living are stronger than mine.

Letters. Awake? In this instance… Asleep. Why asleep? Of course with everything there are two sides. So… Why not delve into the opposition? To pretend it doesn’t exist is to walk blindly in the world by ignoring half of everything. There are those resistant to accept change. Clinging to the familiar of what is known even if it is bad because the unseen and unfamiliar could be worse. That thing that may be undesired might happen and instantly we want to go back to the familiar. Spin the table around now… the unknown might produce something good. What about that? That should be enough of a reason to accept it. Enjoy. m.