Now I’m here.

I’ve been thinking about seclusion. In my last readings the word  has been occasionaly appearing, both with praise and despair. It seems that what for some is a benefit, for others is just a conviction. I guees it depends strongly on a matter of choice, meaning that if you choose to be in seclusion, it could be Heaven, but if it’s imposed on you. Well, that’s obvious.

For my part, however, I’ve seen it as a matter of choice. It’s just my way of life, and it’s always been like that. A hideaway. A place where nobody could do no harm. Here, alone, inside. That’s the main reason why there’s always frost in the window: been secluded inside myself gives my outside a frosty appearance, as if it had no life in it. So my other being has been called cold, aloof, alien, crazy, egotist…whatever was in fashion at the moment. But they don’t know that that’s not me. It’s just a cocoon. I’m still here, inside, alone, safe. Secluded, in one word.

The thing is that, sometimes, I live it with joy, but lately it has become more and more of a burden. And I don’t know why. I am comfortable here, looking, waiting, learning. And I do not understand why I feel somewhat inprisoned right now. There´s no use in going out. There’s nothing in the outside that I cannot get with little effort from the inside. And then again…there’s some unidentified longing that I can avoid.

Seclusion, then. Not an option, but…

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A change is gonna come

Mortality. I know you too have been thinking on it. Why o why? We suffer while we live but anyway we suffer even more under the perspective of leaving our live incomplete, unattended, just there, in the pile with all the others. Pitty us.

It’s boring, isn’t it? Everything in this life came with the instruction booklet aside, except life itself. So you have to learn it all by yourself and then, when you0re finally getting used to it…it’s all over, without explanation. Nor logic. I mean, take God, or Gods if you will, for instance. What’s the point in exterminate your real and potential followers at some point? What’s the use of that? Who’s going to worship you in the end if everyone dies? I know, I know…there’s the Paradise thing. Bur, seriously, with all that exceptions, with all that small print aimed to take you down to Hell, who’s gonna be there singing for the Glory of God? Some little upstarts maybe? No, no,no. It dosn’t even make sense. If I were a God ( I’m not saying I am, we’re just talking in hypothesis) I would be pleased of having as much followers as possible…forever. And having them there where I could count them would be better.

Then again. Mortality. Such a tricky thing. You’ll get bored of life, they say. So much suffering, so much pain. I guess dying, missing, falling into the void must be like a day on the fairground or the beach. What if I want to suffer for the rest of Eternity? So I came up with this idea…Adding up, with all the religions and beliefs existing, there must be a pretty large number of gods and demi-gods wherever thy are hiding. And, as they are immortal and all that, they must be suffering awfully, not talking about the boredom, for goodness sake! So, why not just changing places? I mean, no need to change places fisically, we’re quite right where we are, thanks, well just you take out all those forces of Nature if you please…just change places: you take the mortality, we take your load, lads. Don’t you think that would be just fair?

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The view from here

The view from here is always like that. There’s darkness outside. And there’s frost in the window. It’s the same even if I try to laugh or sing or dance. No merry, no joy. Just darkness and frost. I can’t feel the cold from here, but I know it’s also there, waiting, still. And there’s nothing I can do.

I’ve been trying to put some light in it. Get some sunshine. But I’m any good at it. For me, from here, inside this room, everything is seen through the thin veil of a frosted window, cover in darkness, tied to the notes of a gloomy melody.

Some say that I’m a sad man. Which I’m not. The point is that I have to live with myself and, unfortunately, there’s nothing particularly funny about that. So, when I try to see the world from inside myself, through my eyes, all I can see is the damm frost in the window. And on the background, blurry and pale, a world that keeps moving without my help.

When I sleep, not every night lest I get used to it, I dream of  an open window and a blue sky behind. But somehow, I feel it as a nightmare. So maybe, just maybe, I’m here, inside, looking through this window as a way of keeping myself safe. I only hope is not as a way of keeping you people safe. Because, you know…with time, I may get interested in how to open the window.

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