One Chaotic Mind


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My muse left me alone to contemplate. I’m fighting against the beasts of my imagination to find a windless harbor for my thoughts and feelings. Am I going to be ever safe? Sirens and Cyclops haunt me along to my Odysseus like trip. Will I ever return to my own Ithaca? The journey is what actually matters, some would say, but what about the destination? Isn’t it important at all? I’m still wandering around without aim, lost in my illusionary dreams that keep leading me towards plain disillusion.

I decided to be frank to my emotions and write about the essence and the truth of things, though what is essential and true to me may be not to you. So, what’s the point for doing so? I think I am repeating myself. Forgive me. That’s what happens when my muse is absent. Give me a second to recollect my thoughts. Everything seems to be vague and blurred right now. You’ll probably consider that I’m crazy or under some weird medication side effects. You are wrong. I’m equally reasonable as you are.

Well, maybe not. Maybe something is wrong with me after all. One chaotic mind in the chaos of the universe is nothing but a dispensable microcosm within an everlasting macrocosm. What was I saying? My memory began to abandon me, too. Out of inspiration I am trying to conceive the inconceivable. Do you feel my stress?

I guess it’s time to stop pretending that I’m writing something worth reading and just return to my contemplation process. Alienated and miserable in my golden cage I may draw my muse’s attention and sympathy. So, farewell my dear world!

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