Tomorrow

There was always yesterday. There had always been yesterday.

I will sing one last time then give up, retire, expire. That’s the only way I can do it, you see. (Nobody ever taught me continuity.)

Ingenuity.

There had always been a tomorrow. There was always tomorrow. That’s why we didn’t have to act, do, realise, achieve – there was a tomorrow and this is it.

All those years I believed that things – my life, life on earth – could improve, would improve, coincide; thus I kept running for the privilege of standing still. There was nothing new about this. I was not unique in this. There is nothing new about me. Nothing unique about me. I am not special. The only thing that differentiates me from anyone else is the fact that I am not anyone else. I am me.

As if I could achieve inner peace through one ultimate statement. As if the pressure that builds up through daily life would not have to build up if I could just once say it, say the right thing, express it in a way that is satisfactory to it.

My ideas, intuitions and feelings are all wrong. They do not correspond to any kind of reality. This is the lottery mindset, one decisive moment can change your life for the better, make you happy, allow you to stop trying to become yourself.

Well, it isn’t so. Back to Sysyphus. Rock of ages. I’ve already said it all and nothing has quieted. Nothing has been resolved. The pressure builds up still, evenly, every day, every part of everyday.

Swan song, put an end to it all this time, make it the last time. Or is it the first time? So the first time and the last time would be the same, they would have the same intensity, the same quality. Then there is only one time and it is the first and the last and it is everyday, yesterday, today and tomorrow all rolled into one.

A tone. I thought I wanted to die for a tone. Live for a tone. A tone for my sins.