|to be or not to be.
||[May. 8th, 2005|11:32 pm]
Where we Blog till we drop
|||||Paul Van Dyk - That's Life||]|
Whenever I looked into the mirror, I felt something ugly, which would look and comment on the reflection, it made the whole atmosphere a lot damper, and everything seemed to loose colour. A Beast I would call it, maybe a very clichéd way of addressing it, or rather another me, but that was what it was. It was something which had grown inside me, like a disease, and was now taking over my life; everything that I might have enjoyed was becoming dull. This behaviour, or thought process had so successfully taken over me, that now it had fused to a great extent to a lot of what I was originally meant to become( I know, this statement is flawed, but so it be). It felt like a clash of outlooks and it’s this very disturbance, brought about by a mini war which has set my focus onto this thing. It was a part of me, which is out there to ruin the rest. It sets up standards which the major part of me does not agree to, and thus the rest of me sulks due to the after effect.
It’s like there is a performer stuck within, somehow grounded by unknown causes, but due its rather large stay, has considered my mind home. Now, it is not easy to get rid of this performer, but steps are taken in this direction, hopefully not in vain. The performer looks at pleasure only to be attained through the approval of others, in whichever activity it may be. So, the activity, or even the work arising from thus is not given credit, but rather the approval, of certain institutions and organizations is what seems to be the final aim. Now this is not an easy task, this can also be hell for the person within which the performer is residing. As soon as an achiever, belonging to the same age gap as that of the host is pushed into view, by many sources, the performer jumps into an action, and performs a unique act, which causes the host a lot of discomfort, arising from jealousy, too sulking to the fact of not having achieved enough compared to those at the top. It’s a constant feeling of worthlessness, which leads to a war with the ego.
There are standards to be achieved and life is only full when they are there, and there is a push towards them, some of these are internal, and are golden, as it is of self fulfillment and is the most satisfying, while some are external and are usually forced upon, and are very much brutal. But in the case of the performer, achievement is measured by the amount of applause received from the amount of very media hyped individuals. Now, this very false sense of achievement, or in other words fame is what is mast fatal, a disease, which clearly one is better off without.