I guess some of us were never meant for this world. Those of us who try everyday to get out of this place, out of this existence; who think about taking the short way out of life every 30 seconds of every single day. Maybe that is proof enough that we are not meant to be here, we are not fit for this earth and this conglomerate of souls around us. Everyday they show us we are not needed, everyday there are people who try to make sure we get the message that we are not good enough for this place.
We lack the social skills. We lack the force to grip this reality as so many others have when we see them fighting every day for something they desire. Maybe we lack the desire itself. Maybe our souls are not here, on this time; maybe they have been misplaced. We are actually somewhere else, some other time and our body, with all the weight of this reality upon us, misses its souls so much it can only envision and perpetrate the eternal wish for ultimate liberation. The eternal voyage on our way back home, back to the stars. Maybe that is why we never seem to get anywhere here. Maybe we are only meant to go all the way, in ways other people would never understand. That is why we can never be happy like others and find fulfillment in everyday actions. That is why we can never get anything we wish for.
We, the eternal misfits, are always asking for the wrong things. The right things, the things that are meant and fit for us are not from this world. Everything around us, tempting as it may seem, is not for us; it is nothing but the crooked and shaded mirror of something much bigger that when attained, will satisfy our souls in a certain ecstasy that our bodies can not fully imagine while we are trapped in this place.
During the course of this life we can not run away from the feeling that other people are happier than us. Because we see them happy. We see them fulfill their needs and their whishes. That is why the things they get seem so desirable. And the illusion that we can have them too, it only makes us suffer even greater pains. Because we know they are not ours to grab. We are like the little baby in his cradle who reaches for the toys suspended above him. And that is why we look at the stars.
That is why it hurts so much. To look around and see once more all the things we can not grip, all the things that slip away from us in this world and this reality. Because this is where we are right now, this is the world we have to face everyday, every single day of our lives. This trap, this dark place that never seems to allow us any rest; that has nothing that is good and feels good with our name on it. Only people from this world can get the things from this world. We, the outsiders, are cursed to walk this earth watching the treasures we can not have: we can not have the riches from this world. We will only reach serenity and peace of mind when we leave this world. That is why it hurts so much to be here.
But maybe the suffering and loss are nothing but a mere passage between two realities, two different sets of existence. And we are the people who step on the line. We fight our own vanity everyday after we have convinced ourselves that we are too good for this world. But we can not reach anything better, we can not reach the stars, not for now. We are trapped between the desire for things we can not achieve in the world we are right now and the things we can not achieve in the world that is beyond us. And we diminish ourselves everyday, believing that to be the path to the next world: the suppression of all things egocentric.
Which of both worlds is the true reality, is anyone’s guess. While one world seems real only because it is the one we experience everyday, all the wrong in it, all the mischief, all the pain and all that we are put through everyday; all the cruel people that cross our, all the things that seem good to grab but then escape us for reasons we do not understand; all of that reminds us that there must be some other world where all of those things will one day be put in its proper place. And that must be better than this. Anything must be better than this.
Useless and hopeless. That is what we are. At least for now. We will not get out of here any time soon and if we try the easy way out, we are probably coming back and it will probably be worse. If we are cruel and selfish, we are doomed to repeat our mistakes over and over again. Maybe the secret is to really let go, once and for all, of this world, of ourselves, of all the things that are not meant for us, no matter how many times a day someone else reminds us that this is the life we should be enjoying. Maybe the secret is to realize that this world is nothing but a big pool of mud, where we are trapped until the day we die. And we are only awaiting death. We are only waiting to be released.
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