Closedwindows
11-15-2009, 01:40 PM
Hi to everyone. I am a new member and have never posted anything before. Neither here, or anywhere else. Please excuse me if this is not the right place to post this, I just felt the need to share it with someone before I get scared of doing so as always. Tell me what you think and thank you.
Lunch Bag
Home is the graveyard in which I was born, but it was here where I received the funeral I had never been given back there. Everyday I pack my soul in a lunch bag and take it to work with me. It just sits there – on the empty seat next to mine, because no one ever comes to sit with me – just being useless.
It hasn’t always been like this. My soul – now shriveled and grey – used to be filled with music and life. But that was in the old days- the days when I actually used it. I used it to love, I used it to write, I used it to sing. I even used it to see the colours of spring, the summer haze, autumn’s sunset, and the divinely perfect symmetry of winter’s snowflakes.
And then I closed my eyes.
I closed my eyes, and the only thing I left open was my mind. But a mind that functions on its own, without the warmth of the hart and the irrationality of the soul, is a cold, rigid, dark. All that my mind could see were numbers: age, kilograms, salary, pension, insurance, loans, tuitions, rents, bills… My mind was working: making plans, inventing strategies, thinking of ways to get rich. While my soul was left out there- jobless, homeless, poor.
My soul left me, you see. My soul said it was too cold for her inside me. She said that my heart was gone and she didn’t know where to find it. She said she had asked my mind about it, but the mind said that in order to make an assumption about the heart’s location, first some information needed to be provided: age of the heart, when was the last time my soul had had any contacts with it, did it look depressed, when was the last time the heart had fallen in love. But all the information needed to be provided in precise figures, otherwise no correct assumption could be made.
My soul felt alone. She knew I had betrayed her. I had betrayed myself. My soul used to be full of dreams, now it was full of worries, hesitation, and fear.
But what else could have I done, I ask you? I used to dream of art, of songs, of music, of paintings and love. I used to dream of colour and warmth, nature and freedom, freedom and air. These dreams! They are childish, foolish, unprofitable! What else can a person dream of other than money, security, and the peace of mind which knowing that tomorrow will be the same as today and will not bring any surprises can give to a man!
My soul is irrational. I am sure that now you understand me. How could I let me soul back, when I know that once inside of me she is going to threaten the stability and peace of mind I have achieved! It’s as simple as that, my dear friends: you get into university, get a degree, get a nice, maybe a bit boring, but yet secure job behind a desk, and receive a paycheck at the end of the month. How much better can life get? I am calm, my friends, I am calm because I know that tomorrow is going to repeat what today did. I am calm because I know I am going to receive that little paycheck at the end of the month and spend it on material possessions which will be perfectly enough to fill in the gap of my missing soul. And when it comes to my soul… well, she can sit in that brown paper lunch bag. Who needs a soul, when you can have money and security?
Who needs a soul, when you have stifled those irrational, childish, unprofitable dreams?
Lunch Bag
Home is the graveyard in which I was born, but it was here where I received the funeral I had never been given back there. Everyday I pack my soul in a lunch bag and take it to work with me. It just sits there – on the empty seat next to mine, because no one ever comes to sit with me – just being useless.
It hasn’t always been like this. My soul – now shriveled and grey – used to be filled with music and life. But that was in the old days- the days when I actually used it. I used it to love, I used it to write, I used it to sing. I even used it to see the colours of spring, the summer haze, autumn’s sunset, and the divinely perfect symmetry of winter’s snowflakes.
And then I closed my eyes.
I closed my eyes, and the only thing I left open was my mind. But a mind that functions on its own, without the warmth of the hart and the irrationality of the soul, is a cold, rigid, dark. All that my mind could see were numbers: age, kilograms, salary, pension, insurance, loans, tuitions, rents, bills… My mind was working: making plans, inventing strategies, thinking of ways to get rich. While my soul was left out there- jobless, homeless, poor.
My soul left me, you see. My soul said it was too cold for her inside me. She said that my heart was gone and she didn’t know where to find it. She said she had asked my mind about it, but the mind said that in order to make an assumption about the heart’s location, first some information needed to be provided: age of the heart, when was the last time my soul had had any contacts with it, did it look depressed, when was the last time the heart had fallen in love. But all the information needed to be provided in precise figures, otherwise no correct assumption could be made.
My soul felt alone. She knew I had betrayed her. I had betrayed myself. My soul used to be full of dreams, now it was full of worries, hesitation, and fear.
But what else could have I done, I ask you? I used to dream of art, of songs, of music, of paintings and love. I used to dream of colour and warmth, nature and freedom, freedom and air. These dreams! They are childish, foolish, unprofitable! What else can a person dream of other than money, security, and the peace of mind which knowing that tomorrow will be the same as today and will not bring any surprises can give to a man!
My soul is irrational. I am sure that now you understand me. How could I let me soul back, when I know that once inside of me she is going to threaten the stability and peace of mind I have achieved! It’s as simple as that, my dear friends: you get into university, get a degree, get a nice, maybe a bit boring, but yet secure job behind a desk, and receive a paycheck at the end of the month. How much better can life get? I am calm, my friends, I am calm because I know that tomorrow is going to repeat what today did. I am calm because I know I am going to receive that little paycheck at the end of the month and spend it on material possessions which will be perfectly enough to fill in the gap of my missing soul. And when it comes to my soul… well, she can sit in that brown paper lunch bag. Who needs a soul, when you can have money and security?
Who needs a soul, when you have stifled those irrational, childish, unprofitable dreams?