How free are we really? Why is that in order to feel secure and accepted, we have to give up everything that makes us human to our own eyes. Why is it so easy for some people to be happy while it is a nightmare for others. Aren't we all the same, feeling the need to spread our wings and fly high like Icarus, challenging the very nature of the world? Don't we all feel the need to be loved? Affection, compassion, love... Why should we be judged for what we are. Not what we became but what we really are. Beyond the lies, beyond the acting, beyond the boundaries. Why should I have not the right to feel what every man should. Isn't a life of solitude hard enough so that I have to be more punished for what I like, for what I feel, for what I need?
Isn't struggle for pleasure enough? Isn't the constant fight with oneself sufficient? What makes us different? Why are we monsters? People are laughing around me. I see happiness. I see warmth. I cherish and hate my existence. I love myself so much and I respect him so much that I hate me for not being able to provide him to what will make him feel whole. For the first time. To glance in eyes blazing with fire and lust. To feel the warm skin and listen the heartbeat of a loved one. Without fear, without pretending. Naked. Stripped down to the very core of my existence, Freed by the boundaries that a forbidden truth has put me in. I feel butchered. A half man. Afraid of the difference between love and friendship, in fear of losing both. Even the faintest hope can throw me in tears and on a wild journey of hopes and dreams, of failure and misery, of self loathing and self hating. I haven't chosen this. This is how i was born. But the void within me is getting bigger and bigger. The beast's hunger has surpassed my ability to keep it locked inside. No matter how much you try, you can't enslave heart and body. You can only foul them a limited amount of times with dreams of happiness and crumbles of hope. All in all, passion is fire. You can throw some sticks to keep it down, but the time will come that it will blaze everything in its path, any signs of sanity or withdrawal. And then you understand that the cost of keeping it down is roughly the same as setting it free. The need for love and the unresting fear of acceptance are two sides of the same coin. And the time will come that everything will come down to which side of the coin is harder to control. When life unravels, all the odds are off. When is a man more free? When he opens up himself only to be confided by others or when he confides himself to roam free among men.
What is the endgame? Will the story have a "happily ever after" ending, or will everything come crashing down? And friends? What is their role in this? The same people that gave their love, now ready to take it back. As if the recipient changed. As if in a night moments in life have been undone, hardships have soften and the eyes of a loved one have gone cold.Is it fear? Is it lack of understanding? Or can the memory of a long time friend fade in a few minutes?
Isn't struggle for pleasure enough? Isn't the constant fight with oneself sufficient? What makes us different? Why are we monsters? People are laughing around me. I see happiness. I see warmth. I cherish and hate my existence. I love myself so much and I respect him so much that I hate me for not being able to provide him to what will make him feel whole. For the first time. To glance in eyes blazing with fire and lust. To feel the warm skin and listen the heartbeat of a loved one. Without fear, without pretending. Naked. Stripped down to the very core of my existence, Freed by the boundaries that a forbidden truth has put me in. I feel butchered. A half man. Afraid of the difference between love and friendship, in fear of losing both. Even the faintest hope can throw me in tears and on a wild journey of hopes and dreams, of failure and misery, of self loathing and self hating. I haven't chosen this. This is how i was born. But the void within me is getting bigger and bigger. The beast's hunger has surpassed my ability to keep it locked inside. No matter how much you try, you can't enslave heart and body. You can only foul them a limited amount of times with dreams of happiness and crumbles of hope. All in all, passion is fire. You can throw some sticks to keep it down, but the time will come that it will blaze everything in its path, any signs of sanity or withdrawal. And then you understand that the cost of keeping it down is roughly the same as setting it free. The need for love and the unresting fear of acceptance are two sides of the same coin. And the time will come that everything will come down to which side of the coin is harder to control. When life unravels, all the odds are off. When is a man more free? When he opens up himself only to be confided by others or when he confides himself to roam free among men.
What is the endgame? Will the story have a "happily ever after" ending, or will everything come crashing down? And friends? What is their role in this? The same people that gave their love, now ready to take it back. As if the recipient changed. As if in a night moments in life have been undone, hardships have soften and the eyes of a loved one have gone cold.Is it fear? Is it lack of understanding? Or can the memory of a long time friend fade in a few minutes?
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