parasight.de - Blog & Portfolio of Jerome Dahdah

The Urge

Conflict of Self

Doing… doing… always doing. Never sitting still, feet shoving, legs twitching. Always full of energy, full of thoughts, full of feelings and intentions and memories and everything crashing around in my mind all day and all night and never ending.

Eternal stream of consciousness, never focussed on one thing, always changing, shifting, moving, evolving, resetting, rethinking, unthinking, undoing, redoing and redefining. Discovering, inhaling, remixing and exhaling. Experiencing and suppressing and forgetting and remembering. Analyzing. Overanalyzing. Finding and loving and craving and losing and hating and fearing and just not caring anymore.

Always fighting the urge to create and giving in. Always starting something new and never finishing. Racing the clock in hopes of being done before interest moves on to the next best thing. Constantly failing. Opening up the editor just to write anything for the sake of writing, the sake of creating, the sake of doing something meaningful. For the sake of being heard. Having nothing to say and saying it anyway. Shoving this into your face and not knowing what to make of it. Feeling relieved, now on to the next thing.

Forever restless. The story of my life.


A Memory Of You

Invent a memory of me. It can be anything you want, so long as it’s something that’s never happened… — Nico

It was getting rather late. Far too late for this crap. The symbols on the flickering monitor had started to doze off, glowing all blurry and washed out, and I felt the surrendering urge to join them in their slumber.

I needed to get out of this city. It was pulling me down, dragging me along its filthy streets face first, shredding away all ambition and aspiration, shredding away the last significant bits of my face. Years ago that had been different. Years ago this hole meant independance to me. Finally on my own feet, in my own appartment, in my own city. It was my life, and it was in my hands. I knew this was happiness. It was my first step into freedom.

How foolish I was. Read on, my dear. »



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