I am a man of limited abilities

I have created things which were supposed to reflect some feeling I had, yet they turn out so miserable, compared to what I wanted them to be. I have taken a lot of heat in my time and I did never regret it, but after the tension is gone it tends to get empty and there is nothing I can do about it. Some people came and made me happy, some of them I managed to make happy for a while, and all of them are gone now, somehow whatever it is I did was so out of line, yet I could never know it was to go that way. I did read many books and tried to remember the words, most of them I did, indeed, memorize, a small, but significant part is gone forever into the great white, but I have lived so many lives on the pages of these realities. When I am walking down the street I stare at peoples’ faces as if there is something I have lost and I am supposed to find it that way. I never do. I have many moles on my body, too many perhaps, and when I get hypochondriac I see them as a legion of tumors, waiting for their turn to get me. I can’t make them go away. I have almost 300GB of music and I just can’t listen to all of it at once, which, I really wish I could do, for the sound is what floats us through the stormy weather, and then again, through the much worse calm, still weather. I take words much too seriously, which is a problem, for most people use them lightly and I am always getting into some deep misunderstanding just by taking other peoples’™ words the way I take those that swarm inside my head. When something happens I always take the perspective to the limit and then I have to wait on reality to catch up, yet most of the time it never does. But I can’t go back. And sometimes I wonder if I would if I had the chance. I doubt it. I’d rather keep waiting, but it’s anytime now I just drop it and quit.

Because I am a man of limited abilities.

I am a man of limited abilities

I have created things which were supposed to reflect some feeling I had, yet they turn out so miserable, compared to what I wanted them to be. I have taken a lot of heat in my time and I did never regret it, but after the tension is gone it tends to get empty and there is nothing I can do about it. Some people came and made me happy, some of them I managed to make happy for a while, and all of them are gone now, somehow whatever it is I did was so out of line, yet I could never know it was to go that way. I did read many books and tried to remember the words, most of them I did, indeed, memorize, a small, but significant part is gone forever into the great white, but I have lived so many lives on the pages of these realities. When I am walking down the street I stare at peoples’ faces as if there is something I have lost and I am supposed to find it that way. I never do. I have many moles on my body, too many perhaps, and when I get hypochondriac I see them as a legion of tumors, waiting for their turn to get me. I can’t make them go away. I have almost 300GB of music and I just can’t listen to all of it at once, which, I really wish I could do, for the sound is what floats us through the stormy weather, and then again, through the much worse calm, still weather. I take words much too seriously, which is a problem, for most people use them lightly and I am always getting into some deep misunderstanding just by taking other peoples’™ words the way I take those that swarm inside my head. When something happens I always take the perspective to the limit and then I have to wait on reality to catch up, yet most of the time it never does. But I can’t go back. And sometimes I wonder if I would if I had the chance. I doubt it. I’d rather keep waiting, but it’s anytime now I just drop it and quit.

Because I am a man of limited abilities.