Glimpses of Light

Aside from the average title, there were many times that I thought I was born to be somebody other than I am. I truly thought that I was destined for some kind of quantifiable greatness, measured by a list of notable do's and have dones. Then reality seeps in through the cracks of the shoddy fantasy; the mental image of the mountain crumbling under the weight of sensibility with yourself falling from the very top.

This bi-polar scale used to framework perception is that limiting force from truly seeing forward. The hard part to swallow is the acceptance borne from reflections of the past and the subsequent events that followed. This trail of paper and dust is just paper and dust.

I remember classes at uni where I would listen to student rhetoric concerning the plight of the Australian Media, the crushing grip of capitalism and their subconscious gripe with their jobs and gender roles. These thoughts were then masked as scholarly essays that, hopefully for them, would eventually topple the way people think, getting people to quit their jobs at evil corporations and stop watching daytime tv; Oprah is the devil according to some students. It's just a waste of time. Paper and dust.

I'm living in a dream, but like all dreams, they're not real. At the risk of sounding pompous, the only truth I / you can have, is the light inside.

(Although it would be more carthartic to just pinpoint recent examples of people, it would be low, just like it is to mention it right here)