the long and winding road

its the end of the road sometimes. this isint one, but sometimes it seems like one.
the abstract nature of my being has become me. life is suddenly without meaning. floating images here and there. without purpose, or thought. everything reminding of the past, or of the future. playing out in my head, sometimes all i can see is myself exactly how i am now, 10 years from here.

thats not good. the same chair, the same wall. just a different place. the same thoughts, and the same eyeball reflecting. the shine which used to be there, i heard had gone out. everytime i try to ressurect it, i am doing something else. till focus snaps in, and reality bites.

the requirements of my life are sometimes things that are so romantic that they appear to be the figment of that romance. somehow, every thought that goes through my head has a theory somewhere about escapism. gradually, all the possibilities appear to be the things that i would like to do but never will get around to. just because they are just those possiblities that people like me try to reach out to. but shouldnt. or so some other theory goes.

a spiral which ends in nothing. one which just comes back to the same place.
what i would like to do, is exit...stage left.