Confessions of a born spectator

I need this world, yes, because only it can provide me the peace & detachment I need.  

Yes, I do take my existential swings way too seriously. It may be, that time in life, or that point in season, or that time of the month, or that day of the week, or that hour of the day, or, it may be not. 

Hosseini described  a man - so close to myself - a man who had spent his life sitting in the backside of a car, watching as the world went by in a blur - never taking the steering himself. Thats me. The observer sitting behind.

One infant grows up and becomes a jockey
Another plays basketball or hockey
This one the prize ring hates to enter
That one becomes a tackle or center
I am just glad as glad can be
That I am not them, that they are not me

Maybe answers don't exist. Maybe I know the answers already, but the search is just too much fun, too liberating - like a trance. But one still needs an audience. An observer seeking attention, because that is what he does best.

There is  something about despair - it gives you depth. It gives you a pedestal and the strength to stand on it alone, and rejoice. Happiness on the other hand is always conclusive...fulfilling. It fills that hollow, takes away the depth, it makes me forget - I would rather not.