Jan 4, 2013 - Hopes and impressions in Talks with my past

Hopes and impressions always fight in my mind against each other.
You might think to know someone, but all you’re left with is its impression. Is it how I think or is it how I hope it to be?
Illusions. Dirt stains on white shirts, oil drops floating away on water. They come before your eyes and they talk you through dreamy things, then they move away, slowly, as you’re ready to crash yourself into a sign saying: reality.
If a prize for self harm was a thing, I’d nominate humankind as a whole.
But there stands the doubt: is it how I think or is it how I hope it to be?
We’re all the same, we all play roles with different masks on; split ourselves into behavioural characteristics is easy job, but hopes and impressions still hits us bad.
Damn brain.