In-Sanity

"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity." - Edgar Allan Poe

I wonder if I have been in sanity all this time after all. If every single day I am compressed by all these pressures, these endless worldly issues, in a place where I can't even seem to recognize what I really want.

Yes. What I really want. It'd be the most simple question if it were as mere as "So, what do you want?" At times I fear that it is not the answer unknown, but the sincere truth avoided and concealed. Do I have the courage to admit what I want? Do I really not know, or am I simply avoiding all the consequences that might come once I admit it?

Logically speaking. What could be the consequences? If I truly admit what the heart desires, I could either bring myself together and go after it, or I could deny myself a dreamer and comply to sucking up the desire and giving in to real life. Sure. So there is an option of going after it. That being the case, still the doubtful outcomes follow. Succeed - or not. In case of succession, hurray and congrats! And I'll probably live happily ever after. Yet what if I fail? If I fail, I would have ruined the one thing I went after and therefore proved my dream impossible and unattainable. Failure might not be the worst. Witnessing the death of a dream and see hopes vanish and see how that dream is not one that belongs to my life and that I'll die without it - that hurts.

So if I never explore the possibilities, I'd never be able to destroy it either. I will live with my dreams unfulfilled, in another life where all I'll be doing is think about what I would be doing if otherwise. Yes, I won't have it, but all the while it'll live close to my bosom, all intact and safe and as possible as could be. I will live without itself, meanwhile indulged in the hopes, the what-ifs, the "if I hand't chosen this I bet I'd be great at that." Isn't it the safest way to keep that thing pristine? Yes, pristine, that's the word. My dreams would have been pristine. They'll die like a never-wounded sound virgin - together with me. Never ever having to suffer the great dangers and risks of the real world.

The only little downside to this perfect choice is this: being nothing. Not doing it. Not doing anything. In fact, accomplishing pretty much nothing. If I don't take actions, it'll never be part of its world. And what's so important to that? Because that's where passion lies, isn't it? Isn't it just natural for one to yearn for closeness and taking part in what one loves? If you love something but go against it, that's pretty unlogical, isn't it?

And yet it is worth the risk - worth giving up the chances of trying out just so one can keep oneself intact and safe. That's why still some conclude their decisions with such choice - choice of simply giving it up.

But the most important assumption to all the above arugments is this: the topic in discussion. Only if I admit that is my dream will I ever be forced to face with the tough decision - and moreover, according to this logic flow, to deny the dream and give it up and suffer all the other consequences such as heart-break or sense of loss or depression.

So. After all. Is this why I can't even honestly look into myself and ask that simple harmless question - "What do you really want? What makes you happy?"

The toughest 3 minutes of the season

Bassy Despair

I cannot imagine why the single broken piece of an instrument could have led me into such despair.

It is as if the inability to play the bass has blocked my once-again-retained hope for life, for motivation, or for whatever.

When will it get fixed? I am hoping for the best.



What I'm hoping for even more eagerly, is to find back that sense of motivation for life.