My fingers falter while I sort my thoughts out. It is, in a way difficult now to express what I truly feel, in an age of instant gratification and instantaneous distractions all around.
Even as these words roll out in droves, my mind flickers through channels - so many thoughts, so many feelings left unsolved for the longest time.
But through countless pictures posted, videos, feel good moments with an audience predisposed to judge your every move: you don't construct an artificial personality. It is you, molded not by choice other than that first step taken to be an entertainer. It is you, an organic persona crafted through years of careful curation of what to do, what to show the world, and bury all semblance of what is truly you.
But then again, this is all me. My passion, what I dreamt of - standing on the big stage with a song in my head and a story to tell. But dreams don't feed you, don't they? This gypsy living, a day by day existence of videos, photos, songs and smiles has satisfied my calling - but is that all to it?
But poetics don't betray this hunger. This hunger that one day will be satiated when you reach your full potential. This moment, however, seems further and further away, high in a cloud of childhood dreams and more smiles. More claps. More comments - words of encouragement but then again you stay on your bed, with an empty stomach -
And I wonder - what exactly is hunger?
And I see friends who have worked so many years, toiled so long and spent themselves inside out to reach this pipe dream only to be overcome by age and time - this is a game not many can play.
Algorithms, connections, all these additional equations that makes it such a rollercoaster ride, but don't all rides end where they begun?
But how beautiful is a daytime dreaming? How beautiful it is to live for an idea, a calling, where it feeds your soul and leaves you satiated even when there is nothing more to live for
It is truly beautiful, but beauty is just a moment in time - as physicality fades away, so does beautiful dreams - we all live for something, but then again we all die.
Feelings come and go, and romance is beautiful - but all promises are meant to be broken
And now you must go.
Even as these words roll out in droves, my mind flickers through channels - so many thoughts, so many feelings left unsolved for the longest time.
But through countless pictures posted, videos, feel good moments with an audience predisposed to judge your every move: you don't construct an artificial personality. It is you, molded not by choice other than that first step taken to be an entertainer. It is you, an organic persona crafted through years of careful curation of what to do, what to show the world, and bury all semblance of what is truly you.
But then again, this is all me. My passion, what I dreamt of - standing on the big stage with a song in my head and a story to tell. But dreams don't feed you, don't they? This gypsy living, a day by day existence of videos, photos, songs and smiles has satisfied my calling - but is that all to it?
But poetics don't betray this hunger. This hunger that one day will be satiated when you reach your full potential. This moment, however, seems further and further away, high in a cloud of childhood dreams and more smiles. More claps. More comments - words of encouragement but then again you stay on your bed, with an empty stomach -
And I wonder - what exactly is hunger?
And I see friends who have worked so many years, toiled so long and spent themselves inside out to reach this pipe dream only to be overcome by age and time - this is a game not many can play.
Algorithms, connections, all these additional equations that makes it such a rollercoaster ride, but don't all rides end where they begun?
But how beautiful is a daytime dreaming? How beautiful it is to live for an idea, a calling, where it feeds your soul and leaves you satiated even when there is nothing more to live for
It is truly beautiful, but beauty is just a moment in time - as physicality fades away, so does beautiful dreams - we all live for something, but then again we all die.
Feelings come and go, and romance is beautiful - but all promises are meant to be broken
And now you must go.
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