“And I will drink my coffee slow; and I will watch my shadow grow.” -The Monkees
That song is randomly in my head. I haven’t heard it for months, and have certainly heard many songs in between.
It has been one of my favorites of theirs for a while now. It’s a very peaceful, slow, tranquil song… sometimes it causes me to stop, think, and re-evaluate. Why can’t life be like that sort of thing all the time? That is, of course, a rhetorical question, for the answer is painfully obvious.
I ask it because something inside me won’t stop persisting. A secret inner self whose yearnings and desires are stronger than the mightiest thought, certainly more complex, and will not be quelled by mere rationale.
It hurts, this inner self. More than words can express. It is a primitive, sub-human part of me…or perhaps so evolved it defies explanation. Either way, inexplicable is what it is, although certainly not all it is, and I have yet to find a way to deal with it. Even if that dealing was just a smooth talking-to, a calming of sorts. That, I have tried and tried again; to no use but to make that voice stronger and more defined.
More defined, except, of course, in what it wants.
Other than the world, that is. Other than the sun and the moon and the stars, and everything else in between, for its own use, its own gain, to have under its power and to control indefinitely and to absorb purely as if by osmosis and never have another want or desire or yearning ever again… to be completely, utterly, devastatingly full. Complete. With no pain. No misery. Just… life.
Pure life. Pure, unequivocal life. Is there such a thing? That’s all this so-called “inner self” wants. I just wish there was another side of me that could actually take what small amounts of pure life come my way – which is more than a lot of people – for what they’re worth, instead of for granted, instead of those small bits just making everything worse, more intolerable, and so that voice rises a notch… until all I want to do is cry, or die. Something easier than going through every day as miserable as I am… yearning for things that could never be… and even if they were, would never be enough.