Of poetry and magic.
But such a life does not exist. When I wake up tomorrow, I will have nothing to keep me company but numbness and emptiness. The beauty of the world will fall upon deaf ears and blind eyes. Right now, I live suspended in a moment of sublime beauty. It hurts so much, it's so sad, but I'm at least alive. I'm feeling something deeply. I'm alive. And it hurts, but it's so beautiful. It's absolutely wonderful beyond measure or expression. It hurts so goddamn much.
I don't want to go back to always being a step behind my entire life, watching it inexorably unfurl in front of me. I don't want to go back to being an observer in my own mind. I don't want to go back to playing games with people just to try and fit in, always hiding who I am, what I think, and what I feel. I don't want to go back to being alone in a world where I don't feel like I belong. I don't want to go back to the stress and the torture inherent in just trying to support the inane trifles of my own metabolism.
I want people to understand what I see. I want people to feel what I feel. I don't want to be so alone all the time. I want something better than words. I wish I could hold someone's hand to my heart, and have all my feelings course through them. I wish someone would understand. I wish I had someone to share these moments with. I wish there was someone out there who saw the same wonders as I did.
But none of that can happen.
It's like life is a cruel joke. Even though I gave up long ago, my body keeps marching on, to the rhythm that time drums out. I wish it could all be over, and I have done for a long time now. But it never ends, and there's no escape. There's no way out.
And it sucks.