How from constant search to goal oriented building?
You hit me.
If my body could show the wounds my skin would be ripped apart, bones showing, my eyes having blood tears and my blood splattered all over the walls and floors — my brains in a great mosh of pink gelatine on the floor. It would be one of those real crime investigation documentaries scene. A true show stopper.
The question is just would we be looking at a suicide or homicide scene? Who shot me? Was it me because I went along doing it your way so ill take all the blame. Or was it you who did not acknowledge me trying and accommodated my wishes.
As a kid I ran directly in to the big sandbox you are. And consumed you all I could. And the sand did not stick into shape. So I consumed more information. And still nothing stuck. So I consumed even more. And some more, and some more, and some more, and some more.
I got sick, and felt like puking, and then I was tired, and then I was broken, and then I cried, and then went to the darkness and back to light. And yes I am stronger now and faster and look at me Im flying.
But was it necessary?
Well I do not know. But my gut feeling is telling me I am about to find out.
And this gut feeling was built in real life places, because I love the unknown, I love the smell of the void, this black space in which you fall and you crawl your way out, and once you are out of one hole you want to go into another. I dont need travelling — Ive been to the moon and back before I make my black tea in the morning. My explorations come to me in bed. Would love to show you pictures but were not there yet.
So yes —long story short:
Im over the real. Im in it for the imaginary.
And one thing straight: as long as I will be able to imagine things with you I stay. As soon as I you take away this ability I will go away. I owe you nothing, you owe me nothing. Thats what true love is.
So until dreams do us part I am forever yours.