can i answer the question of who i am before i know where i am?
what am i doing?
who am i?
today it occurred to me that i am without identity. deep inside me there is no identity. i have wondered if it is careless of me to walk around without identity. who am i?
why is it that life appears to me as such a comedy, or as a costume party? and then if not the comedy, or the costume party, other times all that i see is the infinite drama of life and death. what happens in between, i do ask myself.
days like today are different. yesterday i was fully present to all the meaninglessness of life, and then today it all became heavy. there was a light moment when in the office of a friend, for a whole of ten minutes, it was all clear. absolutely clear. then i get immersed in a reality that is foreign to me, and i do wonder what language these people speak, for i really do not understand any of it. it is all so absolutely foreign and strange. i feel displaced, out of time and space, out of it all.
it was like that this evening. i watched a film, but it was my own film that i was watching, and it was foreign to me. i do not like these moments when i can feel it all. i do not like these moments when i feel totally raw and vulnerable. why don't i like these moments?
who am i?
a week ago when i was in your arms, i forgot it all. then, there was just that moment. i am left soothed, inspired and aching for more of those moments. when you go, the questions return. who am i? who are you? who are we?
i know that it is my own wounds now that are surfacing. sometimes it all seems so absolutely ethereal. there is nothing, nothing at all that i can hold on to. i plainly just do not know how to hold on to anything. why must i only exist when i write?
tell me! hold me!
hold me, and let me free.
tell me, and let it be. trust.
