conversation with myself.

har har very farneh izzit
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Hi there Sam,why are you still awake?

I've things on my mind.

Like what things that need that urgency?

Like everything.

Everything?

Not everything,I just can't sleep.

Its the mind that controls the body,what troubles the mind will trouble the body.

The mind is a everything,pretty,ugly,good,bad,happy,sad,love,hate.

So what have became of the mind?

It became restless.

Troubling issues?

Always.

Of what importance?

Trivial yet it persists.

Quarter life crisis?

Everyday is a crisis.

So what is it of you.

That is my trouble.

Of life?

What else do I have?

Question is,what will you do of it?

The same question resounds in my mind every single day.

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player. That struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more.

I don't want to take the stage.

Is that a choice?

Why wouldn't it be a choice?

It is your stage,you're the lead,everyone else is but a cast member.

I cannot live my role,I breath no life into it.

Nay,this is your show,your stage,your audience.

Shows will be criticised,audience can be loud.

What does it account for?

Naysayers,falsetongues,I am of my own.

And you shall always be.

So what have become of me.

What have become of the audience?

They want a better show?

My show is a choice for their watching.

A choice that some who watch do dearly love it.

Yet there are many who loath it.

Which show wouldn't have love and hate.

Duality?

What happened to singularity?

He is always watching,can't you see him?

I can't,he's so near,so close that I feel that I can touch him but I couldn't.

He whispers loudly yet I hear silence.

Is he the director?

He's the producer.

So what will be my time on stage?

Time? Time is only but a tool for us to organize ourselves.

Time is the only thing that we all have in abundance and yet it is the only thing that we always crave for more.

When did time started?

It never started,we took the liberty of creating it and enslaving ourselves to it.

We have from here till eternity,however well we organize it,we still face an inevitable end.

Then why bother.

Precisely,why bother.

I question existance.

Why exist when it will end?

I wonder,whether one day,I will only see darkness. That feeling,when you're having a dreamless sleep. The void,the black. Absence of light,no conciousness. Just total darkness.

It is the mind that controls the body.

Is the mind reality or is it abstract?

Blindingly real yet it is...sadly abstract.

So with death marks an end to the mind.

Is it really so.

Marks an end to reality.

An end of existance.

What after that?

I hope that I am dreaming.

Now you want a sleep with a dream.

Maybe I am.

You're not real,he is not real,she is not real.

You all are not real.

Then what is real?

Nothing is real.

And when death wakes me up,it will be a dream that is shockingly real.

A dream that will last awfully long.

A dream that I hope is worth remembering when I wake up.

Who wants to wake up from a sweetdream?

It might well turn into a nightmare.

Or a sweeter one.

I might forget all of it when i wake up.

Losing the point of having one.

Maybe I'll never wake up.

A dream that will last forever?

Yeah,and each time I wake up from one I dream of one again.

And it continues and continues.

Demeaning its existance.

It is existance.

...

Shall I sleep?

What if you don't dream.

What if I seize dreaming forever?

I wouldn't know.

Maybe like always,I will wake up.

And start to dream all over again.

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