Waiting….Lost in Crowds!

For years now I have been searching, looking for me, always waiting, waiting for a life to begin.

Years as seconds pass me by, endless numbers, seconds in time pouring like great rains from heavens above, falling dead lost upon the pavement floor beneath my feet, soaking into crowds that pass me by. As I wander through the streets of people, as but a shadow of time, my face merges in with the crowd, becomes lost, just another unseen face, just another number. Yet as these people pass me by, weave in and out before me, cross the path of the unseen, the shadow of the night, I wonder how it is they fall so well into normality, how they have become real people, and I still remain a shadow.

I am waiting, each and every day for my life to begin, I go through the motions of living, but I am living the life of the dead, in the land of the living. My voice lays unheard in the melody of life, is out of tune and sinks fast to the cutting room floor, to remain for all eternity, discarded, forgotten. Though I walk through the crowds of the valley of life, I am lost in the shadows of eternal emptiness, the long drawn out silence of the nothingness that consumes me.

As my eyes search the crowds, faces all unique, conversations worth having, thoughts with point, I am overwhelmed by the pointlessness of my own existence, unseen, unheard, I shuffle among the normals, the people who are, who know who they are, from where they came and to where they go. I float in and out, drift among them, a shadow in the vast hum drum of every day living, still waiting for my life to begin, my chance to fall, my chance to shine, not as a shadow, but as me, the who and what I am.

Waiting, waiting always waiting, going through the motions of the normals with the shape of a shadow, fitting my part to the music, the melody of that time that place. I go through the actions of living, without ever-living, I breath without breathing, see without seeing, hear without hearing and feel without feeling, I am but a shadow of today, an echo of yesterday and a mist on the sands of tomorrow.

As I wander through the crowds, I am lost in thoughts of nothing, slipping like sands through the hands of the known, through the hands of those with purpose, those with meaning, still waiting for a life to begin. For so long have I been waiting, that I have forgotten now what it is I wait for, so at the bus stop of life I wait for the train that will finally come along and pick me up. I search in the dust in the darkness of yesterday for the shape of tomorrow, the purpose of today, yet all I find are grains of untruth, masks of the forgotten and gone. Always on the outside looking in. If I scream in these crowds with in which I walk, will I be heard? or will my voice once more fall dead, silent as night, lost once more on the cutting room floor?

As I float in and out of you, around and with in you, am I seen? Am I really seen? Do you see me, behind the mask? The shadow, the nothing, the void I have become? As I sit through interview after interview, I wonder if they too see what I see? See behind the mask I wear that day, to the nothingness of me? That void unfilled black-hole, that blot in time? Can there eyes pearce the armour of me? The shape that I wear to hide the cruel harsh reality of the nothing that lays beneath? The truth of who I am?

Different people, different shapes, different styles, different ways, different thoughts all wash over me, reflect back my own emptiness, my own definition.

If I was an entry in a dictionary would there really be words that describe me? or would that space, as me, be left blank, unknown, nothing but a shadow?

Time and time again I tell myself I am part of this program of life, but in reality I am not, I am like a blip in the program, a bug, a part of the code that is broken, unstarted and unfinished, just random, pointless variables, lines of code that prehaps had a meaning originally, but where never completed nor really begun.

I hide my shape with a blanket, a mask of normality, like clay I form shape to mask shadow, to create anything but the harsh reality of the nothing that lays underneath. For years I have defined my self not by life itself, but by the reality of what I do.

The eternal cliché, lost in the land of perpetually flowering cliché, I pile metaphor upon metaphor, hide with in my words, words of the unseen, of the unknown.  I cloth myself by day in the masks and the shapes of the seen, I borrow and steal a life, moving from place to place, shape to shape, person to person, I am what I am, defined only by that point in time in which I stand, with out which I am naked, alone, lost and unseen. It’s easy for a shadow to take shape, to steal a life with in a life, for we have no substance, we have no reality other than the reality of that time and place, we have no purpose, other than the purpose of the act, of hiding the shadow that lays beneath form the eyes of the normals.

Years and years have I defined myself by my work, always trying to be more, always pushing and driving myself, by what I do, setting the limits, building the walls, all in the vain hope of finally being accepted as something, yet always, over looked, seen but unseen, known as someone who works hard, trys hard, but achieves little. Always searching for some for of recognition, some form of something, crumbs from the table that so eagily would I grab and feast upon, just for some form of fitting in, some form of normaility.

How many times have a struggled and strived for a moment, for that moment to pass, leaving nothing but more emptiness to add to the void of the nothing, to prolong the waiting for that time to come, that time I long since forgot.

I am a house with no doors, no windows, no walls or roof, not even brick, just a hollow a void.  I am the shadow that lives on the outside, always looking in, knocking unheard upon the door, seeking refuge in the night. I dwell amongst you with no purpose or meaning, with no definition, even the knowledge that I gained is worthless, empty forgotten.

I yearn for the hills and the freedom, I long for escape from this plight, I long to belong, I long to accept me, yet I can not, for I am a forgotten fragment of something else, a part this lacks the whole, a shadow born of shadows, raised in shadows, a meaning with no purpose.

How do I even know if what I think is real, or just a shape of a hope or a dream, of a way to begin to live? How do I know if the reality of what lays beneath is really a reality, or just a twisted thought of another time another place,one more string of hope to grasp, only to find it whisked away and once more lost, naked alone, exposed left standing for nothing.

The lines are blurred around me, the colour fades from with in, I flicker like a candle in the light, lost in the darkness of my own shadow, a person that will never be. Darkness befalls, endless miles of isolation, though I pass through the light of the land of the living, I dwell in the land of the gone, in the ghosts of yesterday. Silent tears fall from my eyes, bitter salty, they fall upon my lips and wash away unheard, unseen, unknown into the crowds that pass me by as I walk.

Waiting always waiting for a life to begin, a life that passes me by.


~ by Duma Key on December 15, 2009.

15 Responses to “Waiting….Lost in Crowds!”

  1. Wow, I just followed the comment that you left and it took me to your world. I could tell that you are a deep-thinker, a writer and an awesome Artist. I would like to add you to my links, is that okay? You have a very interesting blog and I’d like to come back and read more. I was just blown away with the thoughts you write!

    Jenny a.k.a. scentedsummer

    • Thanks scentedsummer for your thoughts and comments… Just my kind of view and thoughts…what ever random stuff runs through my mind.
      I am also looking forwards to reading more of your work.

  2. You do write beautifully….articulate…descriptive…yet I found myself w/ tears reading this…
    We all find ourselves at times doubting ourselves…our existence…our purpose here…and we look around and wonder if anyone notices or cares or are we just alone…but by no means are we ever nothing…
    If we let light in…at just the right angle…it chases the shadow away…sometimes the light is in the form of faith or spiritual belief…sometimes its love…family or friend…and for me…sometimes its in the form of a small child w/ big blue eyes…that looks at me sometimes like I am some hero…whatever form it takes…just let it in…

    Again…you write very well…I just want to hug you and make hot chocolate or something…smiles

  3. You move me to tears so often…..Your words make me want to reach out and take your hand and never let go. Amazing, beautiful, moving, heartbreaking. You have an incredible talent, how can you not be so amazed by who you are? I am, and I don’t even know you…..

  4. your photos tie in beautifully with those photos

    i agree with and thought exactly the same as brylie; you are awesome who can you not see that?

    p.s thankyou for your kind words on my photos and i have a new ‘intimate’ flower photo up which i think you will love ❤

  5. Beautifully written, Duma. Truly sad. Completely understandable and something I, and I’m sure many, an relate to.
    I have felt like this… many times… too much of the time… and, I’m finally trying to break free. I think, I’m getting there. It’s not easy. It’s scary. But, I know, in the end, it will be worth it. We have one life (that I know of for sure)…. it’s time to start living it in the land of the living as who we really are – and not as we think we have to be for others sake.

    I also thought of this old quote that I have always liked…

    “For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin – real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way. Something to be got through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. THEN, life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life.”

    ~Fr. Alfred D’Souza

    • That quote is great Sam, sad in a way but so true.
      I am glad you are finding your way, you have a positive stance that shines through in your words and thoughts.

  6. Not sure how to respond to all that. 🙂 You write very well, it’s easy to see that you write from the heart, which is the only way to write. I should put my thoughts in such good order except that I might scare the hell out of myself or give myself another anxiety attack.

    Sometimes the world just aint big enough, and sometimes it’s smaller than we realize.

    We are all bound by a common sadness.

    Or is it madness?

    • Here it is free to write with out ties, with out bonds, or even predetermined style, some how here, I am finding words where as in other time, the pages still lay blank, and time begins to press.

      Expressing your thoughts and feelings through your words Charles, can also bring light, open doors and somehow help to further ones own understanding.

      Bound by a common madness I fear….this thing we call “Society” that’s grown too big and looses sight of its original purpose.

  7. Duma… what if all those feelings were part of an overall sort of programming? Meaning – it’s not personal, you just happen to be given this ego machinery?

    As a fellow 4, I can’t help but relate all too well. Seeing through the machinery has been the biggest blessing for me. It has brought clarity where there was confusion. The journey continues, but at least I have some sense of the direction…

    Point Four: The Artist / The Individualist

    Essence: Joy
    Holy Idea: Origin
    Holy Path: Equanimity
    Chief Feature: Melancholy
    Passion: Envy
    Idealization: “I am elite”
    Dichotomy: Analytic/Disoriented

    Please see this link (it’s just a start, but a good beginning): http://www.enneagraminstitute.com/Typefour.asp

    If the Enneagram speaks to you, I highly recommed Eli Jaxon-Bear’s “The Enneagram of Liberation”

    And if none of this makes sense or is not for you, no worries. I just offer it as yet another possibility. Peace.

  8. oh what we do to those we (profess to) love…

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