Its the weirdest feeling, feeling you are alone, sola as you say it in español. Feeling out of place in a world of statuses, postures and pre-written traditions of how to live. I sat in a taxi going to get lunch, and window shopping and I was thinking of how many people I feel comfortable calling when I just need to hang with someone, una. I thought out many of my friends and of course, those x-communicated because of many reasons and I feel like I need to get into hibernation. I barely can identify the good in people that is if in actual fact there still is. I feel unnatural in a world of robotic, un-intimate habits of zombie existence. I prefer to be locked up in my room feeding on the silence that I cultivated around me..
Existance has become a solitary movement for me. It makes more sense being alone,sola. The last of my kind, the end of me. It is like the last stage of reincarnation. There is no other body out there for my already very old soul.
Vivir sin aire
So what surprises could there be? being in a world of billions, surrounded by millions, living with hundred thousands but actually being alone, sola. I’m only intrigues by philosophies, ways of thinking and perceptions. I live only on music, my sanity pill and soul clenser. And lastly i dine, i really taste, eat slowly, swallow vanity and social standing, my orgasmic experiences have run away from sexual encounters and replaced by a silent toast of sweet red under the midnight sky. I’m surving in a superficial relm in a very stuffy world. Sola, alone.
So maybe that is it, the death of the afterlife. The ending of the soul and maybe the reality is that death isn’t actually a beginning but an end. Stillness, silence. Floating in blackness. A dark, warm space of nothing ness. Death may be silence from thoughts words, things. Maybe death is nothing. Rightfully so, it wouldnt matter because it really is just me, sola, alone. There may be no other…
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