I have been observing this change in myself. This metamorphosis that has taken place not over the time, but almost suddenly. The change has been marked by a transition in the feelings of intimacy towards mundane commodities and personas, in general.
There is a broader set of feelings that I exibit. Each element of this set takes turns - I use them as masks : Agony, guilt, affliction, misery, twinge, and once in a while happiness.
Every one of these elements come with atleast one common repercussive consequence: euphoria. I can be euphoric while burning in incandescent fires of sadness - I have learnt to be euphoric. Somehow, the euphoric sensation does not adhere to happiness anymore. Happiness does not adhere to euphoria anymore. Happiness is a somber feeling. It is filled with the mellow colors of life which will soon fade away after a few rain drops of passing years.
It is aberrant and strange, how a person is kept going by a few untangible, blurred and often surreal ideas of a personal nirvana - A vision that has no ending, and probably no begining either. These visions are the axioms of my existance - these are what Vincent is. In the happiness mode, sometimes when I am. I stand and look towards the horizon of that nirvana. When I find nothing, when I find a mere illusion of merging of the earth and the sky - of my vain struggle and ideals, I ask myself, "is this what I really want in life?" The answer is disconsolate hoplessness - the answer is "yes".
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