Waiting for Godot




“Estragon: I can't go on like this.
Vladimir: That's what you think.” 
- Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot


Over the past year and a half I have written sporadically. Wine soaked proclamations of love. Hopeless pleas of regret, sorrow, and irreversible anguish. Wallowing in misanthropic delusions my only solace. Tiny self-indulgent scriptures reserved only for me, to desperately clutch onto in self-inflicted moments of turmoil. Yet little of worth has been spilt from my quill.

Being creatively stifled has had an inherently crippling effect on me. I move through the world in a subdued state. Life passes me by in a swirl of muted colours that mirrors my jaundiced perception of reality. I have been completely stunted, entirely incapable of creative expression. A hollow shell of a human being trying to make sense of a nonsensical paradigm. Grappling for the energy to merely carry out the motions.

I fear I have become inexorably maudlin. Like a sad clown on the worst kind of summers day. Balmy and suffocating. The Great Pagliacci. Past his prime. Melted soft serve dripping down his pudgy fingers and wrists onto his chubby lap. Jaded and alone on the isolating path to self-destruction. 

To be entirely truthful, I have no idea where I am going. I am not where I expected to be at this point in my life. But really, who can predict these things. 

I tried picking up Bukowski but he only served to reaffirm my melancholy. The truth is, I am not entirely sure that we are ever capable of truly figuring it out. So we sit, drinking our cheap Scotch and sucking on our Marlboros, hoping for some inkling of enlightenment. 

But honestly, enlightenment is a lot like Godot. We can sit and wait and wax lyrical about our own conceptions of what it might be, but, like Godot, it repeatedly fails to arrive. The play ends, the house lights turn off and we are left in the dark, alone, no closer to to enlightenment than we were before. 

To prophesize that it is all doom and gloom, though, would be an insult to the truth. What other point to life is there than to grab onto the fragments of happiness that are flung our way and hold onto them with the utmost vehemence? Like a child unwilling to part with its favourite toy.

It only takes one person to alter our perceptions of reality, to banish the darkness and expose the cracks of light beyond the abyss, albeit in rare and infrequent effusions. If you happen to stumble across this person, do not let them go. You might not find another like them again.

Love & light,
M xx

7 comments:

  1. Isn't this the truth? There are trillions gazillions of people around the world but a single opinion from one distinct person can change everything we believe in. So powerful to also think that to some, we are that person.

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  2. Love the photos, also love reading your words too :)

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  3. beautiful writing x
    www.vicariousLA.com

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  4. Wow Melissa, this is my first visit to you, I truthfully enjoyed your words... I agree that when happiness comes, hold on to it... it seems to be fleeting at times. I heard something the other night that made me think, we are all looking for our happily ever after... it doesn't exist her, however; we were meant to be happy... xox

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  5. Katy perry has a tattoo in sanskrit that says go with the flow.

    glad I found you.

    xx

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  6. I'll tell you a secret...Almost nobody knows where they are going, but only a few are brave up to admit to it. I don't think happiness is something that is within the arms reach, often it harkens not to our calls...I think it is like water, it espaces our palms no matter how hard we press our fists together.

    You write so beautifully.......I'm your new follower with gfc.


    http://modaodaradosti.blogspot.ba/

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