In the Future – Emi S
Messy Contemplation – at least it’s there
I.
Today. I’m feeling more positive today. So I’m writing. Today.
I wanted to write something profound, but that was painful and difficult, so here’s this instead:
In the future, I want to write. So I’m writing, now.
Sometimes I wait until “the time is right”. But then it never is.
It’s so difficult to get words onto paper now. For me, not for AI (yikes – future career path in the mud). Maybe in the future, it will be easier. Hopefully not due to the fact that AI has taken over; more so to me having achieved some form of self-actualisation. Hopefully.
Right now, I want to write something dark and awful. Something that means something. Or something that could be thrown away – either way, I’ll have written it. I’ll have written something.
Because writing something now means I can write something in the future. Not that they’re mutually exclusive. But if you think but don’t do – you won’t. Then I’ll end up not writing something in that floaty, dream-like future that keeps changing day-to-day. Horrendously so.
So – I’m writing today. To look back, from the future, and see that I have done something. I will be glad to have at least tried to put it into words.
II.
Passion.
Love and suffering. Suffering and love. The love of suffering. Suffering to love. At the end of the day, it all gets mushed into the same confusing mess.
A bit like this piece of writing. It began a bit like a poem, but I reckon I binned that one pretty quickly once I realised I wasn’t really in the mood to write poetry.
Is it always going to be like this? Why is it so difficult? To think?
To Creators,
This is an address – an open letter, of sorts. Three parts, very short: varied thoughts.
Things you can take with you, or things you can leave. Meaningless words. Words you can forget. But words you might remember, just for a second. I think for that, it might just be worth it.
Is it worth it? To have this?
III.
There’s a future. Not often tangible. Only in dreams.
I get tired. Of this thing I’m living. Everyone would, wouldn’t they? Don’t they? I’ve often overlooked the value of escapism, but I keep returning to it, no matter what. Music taste; favourite films; new year’s resolutions. All we want is what we don’t have. Otherwise why would we bother wanting it? And in dreams, the feeling of having what you don’t is so real, that for all intents and purposes, you do. You have it. You have everything. You have your future.
So throw caution to the wind, pick love over gold, etc. All you need to do is drag that future kicking and screaming into reality.
And God, the noise it makes.
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