Realization

One can write anything. One can believe anything. Our beliefs can be real even if they may sound false. How we perceive the world is perhaps the way the world perceives us. It wants to consume all forms of expression. Humans are limited beings with downfalls, inefficiencies and inconsistencies. We create our world, and all is according to it. We seek pleasure. We need things. What is considered may also be not considered. With such a variety of forms to exist, one may realize how false one exists. The moral of the story is that we live a life deemed fit, but we can even live a life unfit for us. So therefor we are free, but we may also be found in slavery. My words make less sense everyday. I live the wrong life, even if it is suitable to my needs. I feel incapable of expressing anything. My life seems out of control. I do not know how to resolve this inner conflict. I see the truth but cannot conceive of it in any other way. I have failed myself, but still believe in better days. It's weird. This blog is more of a diary, a supplement of my psyche. Words have the power to express such things. I am lost, and few dare to find me. I do not know how to express myself without sounding inappropriate and inconsistent and incapable. I fear for myself. My life lived away from the real. No one, or few understand it. Strange dilemma. Poetry in motion. Self-belief is not found, for my self is not believed in. Even by others. My routine expresses my mind and being. I will only be taken seriously when my life fits seriously in the realms of success and power. We all fail to submit our points of view as such. All a boring clinging to what we are best at. Our lives controlled. Still mumbling and never reaching a logical conclusion. Sad truth.