PLIK. TING. I can see each dream-vision, each option as a potential timeline radiating outward like spokes, but as more and more time passes they break free of the central hub (me in current state) and drift off like so many luft balloons then vanish into oblivion - except that their memory still exists within me as sadness memorials of regret… more wasted potential and lost opportunities. But I have been shackled here where I am and am not able to travel down any paths no matter how much I want to. CVUUF. GHEEJ. So I hold onto each thread as tightly as I can and try to prevent them from slipping away although all can see the inevitable loss as they are only intended as temporal windows to slip away out of this bleak hovel of decay into the night and the invigorating air of the unknowns chance and growth. KYANT. TCUP. Wistfully I strain to resist their being pulled out of my grasp but it is in futility. I do not fear these roads… I love and cherish them. I yearn for them. But I am unable to go. Whether you can see or understand why I am not, or whether you agree with my reasons or not means nothing to me, as I mean to you. QYUG. VYYM. VROC. By not allowing me a chance to explain, or by not understanding who I am and what makes me so, nor why I do or have done what I do, you have made me a clockwork-orangutan to grind the organ for everyone’s entertainment (and also your financial gain) while devastatedly watching all of my beautiful dreams of happiness pulled away one-by-one with the persistent inevitability of erosion as waves of time wash against the shores of my soul. ENKE. NEEASH. My heartstrings snap as each life’s thread is wrenched from my grip. Tears stream down me for another lost potential Heaven (for all those within that version), but kinectically frozen in place I remain. I can not successfully move forward (on any path) anymore than I would by sawing my own neck off to be free of this chain that has collared and contained. Does it really matter if you know why it is there or agree with it being there? Not to me, it doesn’t. TWOOK. TAACHT. Soon I will not have any dreams left and I will be left holding nothing… clipped to this unwanted, desolate backyard, cold and abandoned will become the only path forward. But, forever, will I be haunted by these visions (idyllic fantasies, perhaps… but either way…) knowing that they might have been possible once - but no longer, the new designated path leads to drudgery & toil until eventual collapse into a now welcome oblivion of my own. CHUUP. FFUUT. Each possibility of all dreamt paradises going for one impurely and unwarranted inconceivably remains Ill-gotten, unforgiven & foresaken —hated and misunderstood for a lifetime to a lifetime of the same, for all time. I guess we all have our part to play in this blumanatic-farcidy up on the world stage: I thought I had found one who understood me and might release me from this tortured cycling. But, here I go.
