And i say to myself- i want it all, life, as it comes to me, life, real, with rough edges and unpolished surfaces, life that stings and scrapes and feels raw and yet warm and soft against the skin, bigger than anything, breathtaking and overwhelming in its vastness, astounding in its realness, life that happens in every passing minute and goes on and on, relentlessly, sometimes with an effort of an uphill struggle, sometimes through the clenched teeth, sometimes like a soaring of a bird, sometimes peaceful as a sleep of a child... life, real as i could have never imagined it could be...
and i say to myself, i want it all, the whole thing in its entirety, as real as it can get, and then some of its pain on top of it all- i want it all or none at all, and not delude myself with a quasi-real, or rather surreal, or perhaps unreal life made of illusions, delusions, past pains and future doubts- i rather take the pain of disappointment in the end, then have what will dissolve in the air with not even a memory left to remind what it was like... how it was... question whether i was even there in the first place... wonder how i got where i am... and not having a clue where it is that i'm going.