Someone to listen

I have so much to say, so much to write, so much to sing, so much to cry. But when I turn around rejoicing in a new idea or opinion just formed in my mind, there is no one. The recurring fact in my life and the recurring fact with what I write is that there is no one there to listen or to read... Maybe that's why I started this blog, in the hopes of being heard, if only by a few. I have read and heard and felt that all want only for one to keep ones opinions to ones self... but how is that supposed to be? As social beings we humans have a natural instinct to group up and, in "later times" have decided to group up and discuss ideas and opinions. We cannot ignore this fact, and we are drawn to others with the sole intention of sharing, and that is what drives humans to all in life: to power and to love and to live. So I am left here alone yet again with no one to turn to rejoicingly and tell them all about what I am and feel. Admittedly, my environment is a very influencing factor, and being alone has only started to affect me recently at seeing what others have all around me, something immaterial that I cannot seem to acquire, probably also due to the fact that I do not feel as comfortable with the technology and ways of our era. I abhor texting and the telephone, and feel that Skype is to unreal and barely use these methods of communication unless absolutely necessary. I would much rather send an email or a letter (albeit my handwriting is horrendous and no one really likes it..., perhaps typing machine?) . The joy of writing phrases in prose with long, complicated, and beautiful words written correctly. Such methods are (sadly) a bit antiquated or too formal for ninety nine percent of the population. Perhaps that is why I have named myself M. Gustave, as I am most surely living in another time, long gone, where people talked to each other directly and wrote long, beautiful letters pouring their hearts out in long lines of prose. Perhaps I merely fantasize... everything a dream, unreal... Too far from reality... But I would very much like to sustain the illusion for as long as I can...

M. Gustave

The Future

The future is virtually unpredictable. You might think that something might happen, but in reality it might not. No matter the probability that it might happen, it might not. This phenomenon comes hand in hand with the fact that time passes to quickly for us humans. We see ourselves day by day feeling miserable at our jobs, at our schools, at home, and although it seems to only crawl by at the moment, a year will have passed in a blink of an eye. The feeling of uselessness and the need for more time is always there, either nagging at us from time to time, or overwhelming our every sense and clouding our minds to the point where we may no longer even think. This last year has passed both very quickly and extremely slow, for me at the very least. I am no longer the person that I was then, merely a shadow, a wraith draped in the skin of another. The entire world crowds around me, asphyxiating me and pulling me down further and further into the depths of sorrow, despair, and hopelessness. I feel the world around me wallow in despair while I writhe in pain at every instant, every waking moment. My vision darkens and the so called future is completely obscured from sight. I am left alone to die in the darkness of this cruel world. So I might as well kick back and enjoy every brief pause in life and the pain that it ensues. I enjoy the lines of poem that I scrawl lovingly all over my notebook; I enjoy the few pieces of music that are actually worth listening to; I enjoy the brief moments when I close my eyes, and blocking the world on the outside, delve into myself and fine peace if only for an instant; I enjoy the brief conversations that matter with the few people who seem to matter. And so it is that I write down these words. Of the things that I enjoy, I must admit that the least frequent one is finding people that see the world as I do with whom I can engage in meaningful conversations, not the enormous amount of crap that I must endure to speak every day because that's what society requires of me. In the end I would too end up saying those damn words:

I love Big Brother...