She sits and stares into the mirror.
As she blinks a new wrinkle falls round her eyes.
Behind her in the bed lays her other incomplete half.
Him unaware of her pain, a tear falls down her cheek.
Stuck in a rut and her thoughts elsewhere.
Distraction is all the rage these days, and she will seek it where she can.
How long can she put off the touch, and the emotion?
What do you say when whats desired by all is not wanted by you?
Juggling has never been a talent of hers and she's dropping the balls.
Which ones to keep in air are no longer her choice.
How long can she sit here;
Watching time fly past.
How long can she sit there?
My Confusion, The Universe and Blood.
Laying here with my hand on my neck, I can feel the slow and steady, constant flow of my blood.
It reminds me I'm alive. It reminds me that I'm not just human on the surface.
I am bone, sinew, tendon, flesh and cells.
Each pump of blood keeps me working like a machine.
When we are the most complex and complicated machine known to man, known to this world, how can we merely call ourselves human?
Human versus Machine, such a difference, yet so the same.
Are all feelings individual and unique? Other machines have felt as much as we, they relate. Our networks interlink.
How can we say we are human when a seemingly spontaneous choice of path has been previously walked? Has been programmed into us, into others.
How is it that I have felt like this before? Will I feel like this again?
Am I wrong? And am I different? Or will we all feel this way?
Why is it that when I feel the blood pulsing through my veins, my heart and my body that I feel less human, and more like a machine?
Why is it that the world as I feel it vanishes beneath me leaving me with only the beat of my heart. I feel inconsequential, small and lost, unnoticed. Yet at the same time I feel that all of this is out of my hands, and that none of it is within my control.
None of this is my fault.
Alongside DNA feelings and choices and the paths we take are what make us individual, yet others before me have made the same choices, what distinguishes me from them?
With every beat of my young and unsure heart my choices and decisions seem not to be my own but in the hands of someone else; this comforts me.
Does this bring me on to a 'God', a 'Creator'? Have our lives and has this world been mapped out like software on a computer? Are we all just walking hardware?
Perhaps I am pondering the meaning of life, or how we came into existence.
Or perhaps I am finally realising there is so much more to this world than I thought.
I am realising that the complexity behind a simple choice or decision, and the million and one combinations of emotions and feelings are just as profound and as intricate as our genetic make up.
On the surface I see simply skin, but underneath I feel it all move; I feel my body working I feel the cells grow and expand, pulse, twitch, circulate and respire.
I feel it all happening, and I know I'm not controlling it.
Existence is out of my hands.
How can all this be happening within me and yet I am unable to make a conscious decision to simply switch off?
How can this machine of life, with no power switch, be compared to any of the greatest machines and inventions of all time?
Yet what is confusion? A virus, some rust in the machinery?
How can not knowing what to do bring all this thought?
I guess I want to know who is responsible. For me, for everyone, for being human.
If I made a decision that hurt someone, is it really my fault?
Who is in control? The choice or the human?
How can the worlds greatest machine manage to keep going through it all, but fail to find clarity at any given point?
How can the worlds greatest machine fail to make a simple choice?
Is it the perfections that make us human, or is it the imperfections?
Humans all make choices, but some find it harder than other, is this humanity?
Perhaps it's not the ability to make a choice that defines us as beings or as a race, but the inability to make a choice.
The confusion, the haziness, the unbalanced scales.
After unintentionally pondering the big questions to no avail, the answer to my smaller queries is seemingly more lost than before.
Confusion has led to more confusion, and as I feel my heart beat, and marvel at my mechanics,
I have no answer.
I have no point.
And at this moment in time,
I ponder it all.
It reminds me I'm alive. It reminds me that I'm not just human on the surface.
I am bone, sinew, tendon, flesh and cells.
Each pump of blood keeps me working like a machine.
When we are the most complex and complicated machine known to man, known to this world, how can we merely call ourselves human?
Human versus Machine, such a difference, yet so the same.
Are all feelings individual and unique? Other machines have felt as much as we, they relate. Our networks interlink.
How can we say we are human when a seemingly spontaneous choice of path has been previously walked? Has been programmed into us, into others.
How is it that I have felt like this before? Will I feel like this again?
Am I wrong? And am I different? Or will we all feel this way?
Why is it that when I feel the blood pulsing through my veins, my heart and my body that I feel less human, and more like a machine?
Why is it that the world as I feel it vanishes beneath me leaving me with only the beat of my heart. I feel inconsequential, small and lost, unnoticed. Yet at the same time I feel that all of this is out of my hands, and that none of it is within my control.
None of this is my fault.
Alongside DNA feelings and choices and the paths we take are what make us individual, yet others before me have made the same choices, what distinguishes me from them?
With every beat of my young and unsure heart my choices and decisions seem not to be my own but in the hands of someone else; this comforts me.
Does this bring me on to a 'God', a 'Creator'? Have our lives and has this world been mapped out like software on a computer? Are we all just walking hardware?
Perhaps I am pondering the meaning of life, or how we came into existence.
Or perhaps I am finally realising there is so much more to this world than I thought.
I am realising that the complexity behind a simple choice or decision, and the million and one combinations of emotions and feelings are just as profound and as intricate as our genetic make up.
On the surface I see simply skin, but underneath I feel it all move; I feel my body working I feel the cells grow and expand, pulse, twitch, circulate and respire.
I feel it all happening, and I know I'm not controlling it.
Existence is out of my hands.
How can all this be happening within me and yet I am unable to make a conscious decision to simply switch off?
How can this machine of life, with no power switch, be compared to any of the greatest machines and inventions of all time?
Yet what is confusion? A virus, some rust in the machinery?
How can not knowing what to do bring all this thought?
I guess I want to know who is responsible. For me, for everyone, for being human.
If I made a decision that hurt someone, is it really my fault?
Who is in control? The choice or the human?
How can the worlds greatest machine manage to keep going through it all, but fail to find clarity at any given point?
How can the worlds greatest machine fail to make a simple choice?
Is it the perfections that make us human, or is it the imperfections?
Humans all make choices, but some find it harder than other, is this humanity?
Perhaps it's not the ability to make a choice that defines us as beings or as a race, but the inability to make a choice.
The confusion, the haziness, the unbalanced scales.
After unintentionally pondering the big questions to no avail, the answer to my smaller queries is seemingly more lost than before.
Confusion has led to more confusion, and as I feel my heart beat, and marvel at my mechanics,
I have no answer.
I have no point.
And at this moment in time,
I ponder it all.
Times Change
Its amazing how things literally can change overnight..
And I want to write and write, but the words don't even come anymore.
Everythings turned upside down and I am finding it so hard to adjust and find out where I actually want to be..
And I want to write and write, but the words don't even come anymore.
Everythings turned upside down and I am finding it so hard to adjust and find out where I actually want to be..
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