A message that departs from the main topic       
  Excursus
   PROSE > Blind

Blind. That's what he thinks.

He leads a very trivial life. Every morning, he wakes up, makes up his bed, goes down the stairs, takes a bath, changes his clothes, drinks his coffee, goes out and goes to work. And when he gets home, he's faced with the same ordeal. He puts down his things, washes his face, plays with the dog, changes his clothes again, cleans the dishes, cooks dinner, and then turns on the TV.

But all this is nothing. His life is comprised of small units of time and it's meaningless.

For years, he is under the impression that once he graduates from college, his life would finally change and everything would finally fall into place. He would start to live, in all sense of the word. But when he is on the verge of that single moment, he realizes one thing - he is deluding himself. Has been, all this time.

After graduation, he finds himself living the same kind of life he used to live. The same. Mundane. Monotonous. Routine. So much so that it becomes sickening. He wishes desperately for another kind of life. Certainly, this is not the kind of life he wants but he is drawn to it inexplicably and irrevocably.

It's the people, he often thinks, the people in his life right now. His family. His girlfriend. The society in general. They're suffocating him, stamping out the real person within. The instinct for survival forces him to try and swim away but the current is too strong and he's being swept away. In the end, the struggle is futile. A waste of time.

Money. Money is important in these dollar days. And success. It seems everybody wants success not just in their lives but in all that they do. So success it is. But everyone's definition of success is too shallow for him. And anyway, he argues, he doesn't care about success. Really. But he is ashamed to admit that he does care about what people think of him.

And this is his prison. He can't ever get out. He can't ever give in. He's not even sure that he wants to do that, too.

This is his comfort. This is his weakness. He has it all planned out and he is going to get a good paying job and use that money to fuel his dreams. HIS dreams this time. Not some twisted version that society imposes. He is going to make money. His goal, his life is being reduced to that - making money.

It's a coward's way out. And he admits to being a coward. But he wonders, he wonders what will happen if he decides to remove himself from this life of sham he is living in. How is it to finally step beyond the boundaries and not be afraid?

But he wonders if he could stand it. The lack of fear is a fearsome prospect. He wonders if he can enjoy the enormity of such freedom. Also, he wonders if he has even experienced joy. Because he doesn't believe he has. Not the pure kind anyway. What is the pure kind?

His life is a blank. He's looking at the world from the shadowed sidelines, where people only see a shadow of himself and he, a shadow of them. And he may never have the kind of inner strength to draw it away.

Blind. That's what he thinks.

Copyright © 2004 Excursus. All rights reserved.