Hollow glass with tungsten alive. Tungsten on fire. It burns so bright. It is the holy fire that keeps away all those fears everyone has locked away in that ancestral memory. The light is blazing bright over in the corner of the room. It is the only lamp in the house that still has a light bulb that has not burnt out. It burns so bright that shadow is but a dim memory for the moment. Oh but only for the moment. They start to creep back in like a moth to the flame. The shadows they slowly slighter in their eeriness threatening to swallow the little light.
In the back ground a song plays about passing the hat. Someone pockets the cash leaving a note behind saying that "the giver's not knowing where their money is going to is as good as throwing it away." The band had struck a cord in mind even before I heard a single note. It was in their name more than anything. Cold War Kids. It says something to me that I don't quite understand and throws back a bit of nostalgia. I remember the waining days of the cold war from my early childhood and I must say that times then did seem better for some reason. I don't know why.
The song fades into the back of my mind as I strike up a conversation in my own mind. Thoughts really. I don't actually talk to myself. If I did, I should probably sit myself down and have a good long heart to heart about what is going on right now. About where we are going. About all those questions that neither I nor the me I would be talking to could have the answer to.
So for the sake of sanity I won't imagine myself talking to that imaginary me. Instead I find myself having a conversation with the light that is fighting with futility. It is trying so hard to push back the impending night.
I ask it why school didn't prepare me for all the things I was going to face? No school didn't really ever teach me what I needed to know. It didn't teach me how to deal with despair and someone breaking your heart. The tungsten just burns. It has no answers.
Why did I say to that person that I wanted to keep in touch? The answer isn't that hard to find really. The bulb wouldn't need to answer. Really I meant that I wish she would just grow up. No the bulb didn't have to answer at all. So the tungsten just burns. It has no answers.
Am I just failure by design? I am sort of a recluse confining myself to the internet with most my days. I continue to blame myself. I blame myself all the time. It does nothing but add a bigger and bigger chip on my shoulder. Burn tungsten burn. You have no answers.
What is it about me that is so selfish and quick to anger? I have no right to others things but then they have none to mine. Should I have changed the way of access? My space and my privacy are in constant invasion because I just can't lock my door. I thought I had learned to share but apparently others haven't. So I will keep what is mine and you keep what is yours. Stay the fuck out of that which is not yours. Is that right? The tungsten just burns. There are no answers, only light.
Am I going in the right direction? Do I have direction at all? I know what I want and what I want to do but I am to ashamed to admit it to anyone, least of all myself. Perhaps that is because I see that choice as selfish and yet there would be no money to be made of it. All you give to me is light. No answers. Just light.
Shouldn't I want something more than I do? Shouldn't I want to help the world or at least do something of greatness? My dreams are much less inspiring that most would think. People would tell me I am smart. People have told me that I am good at what it is that I do for a living. I don't think I want that though and what I do want I don't know if I can ever be as good at as I would like to. Why? Burn tungsten, burn. The only answers you have are in what you do.
Should I feel bad because I miss what it is that I used to do? It was mindless, it was in no way helping anyone. It wasn't about he greater good. Instead it was a completely selfish endeavor. It was a selfish endeavor that I hated for that reason. I thought the grass was greener on this side. Illusions. All of it. The lightbulb knows nothing of greed. It only knows service and its purpose. It burns. It burns bright. It burns with all its life to hold back the impending dark. It has no answers for me.
Will what I do ever be what my parents, my friends and my family be enough? What do they expect of me? What does the world expect of me? I can't know any more than anyone else. It is inevitable that people will simply lie to me. It is impossible to know if what is being said is real and truth. The light bulb itself is a lie. It gives unnatural light. It promises safety from the dark but it can't last forever. So burn tungsten burn. There are no answers to be had.
What happened to those dreams that we had? What happened to all those dreams? Did you dream them too? I imagined a world made better by us but instead we lost contact. We became what it was that we never imagined. We made no great change. We made no big difference. The world isn't better. It may have never have changed at all. It may be worse. We made a new generation for which to leave all our debts and sins. When will the cycle end? Silence. Burn bright tungsten. I expected nothing less. I wanted so much more.
What happened to us? We used to be so close. We would talk until late at night spouting wisdom about bread and cheese. It was all we thought we needed. We were wrong. Priorities became different. You would succeed where I continue to fail. I would have moments of being happy yours would last longer. We didn't used to seem so different. Now I have locked you out and for what reason? I don't expect an answer so just burn.
It may sound strange but a dead guy and an elf were the best things to have happened to my life. You probably won't understand but I miss them. The lightbulb has no friends. It just gives light. No answers.
A flicker. A pop. In an instant the fight against impending dark is lost as the light burns out. I am here now in the dark with no one to talk to. The fight was indeed futile. The answer is there.
As far as I can tell and from what I have been able to discern, despite all the great questions that have been asked and the great philosophical answers to be given there is only one that has the precedence to stand above the others. You see little light bulb can't tell me. It just goes on with that one too. The tungsten just burns until it can burn no more. It has all the answers.
What is the point of all this? Is there any universal answer or was I right all along in that there is no answer to be had just more questions? The answers are going to be found only within ourselves after all. The answers are things that we can only find from within. There is no truth beyond what we are willing to believe and no truth beyond what we are willing to accept. Reality is a construct of our mind. The answers were never really important anyway. It was all about the questions and the journey that they take us on. How is it that a light bulb can show this? That is but another question.
We are all fighting that same fight as the light bulb. We are all alive and it is easy to loose perspective. To let slip the idea that we are all fighting to not be dead just yet. Sadly the fight is rigged. We all go down eventually. That isn't a question. The only question is how many rounds we are going to last. We don't ever really stop fighting though. No matter how bad things get we never stop. I think it is because we just don't know how.
I may be insane. I may be brilliant. I can't determine which. I just had a conversation with a light bulb in my head. What was imagined was just as real as the real. All I know is that I want to burn bright and long. What about you?
Love, Luck, Lipstick and Lollipops
Listening to: Brand New