Limbo

There is one thing called reality, and there's another thing that's us. And reality does not bend to us; it is actually the other way around. We are bent my reality. Or we are left in its borders, in a no-place that we could call limbo. It's pointless to struggle. Our nature belongs to reality. Struggling against the reality is, in the end, struggling against ourselves. And we all know there is no possible victory when we fight ourselves.

I remember being in the limbo of reality. Happens in times like this, when a loss brings up illusions, too many illusions. It is a time for mistakes. Or apparent mistakes. Sometimes I wonder if, in the past, I couldn't have made more out of it. Not all illusions are illusory. Or rather: some illusions might become true if we follow them. My days of chasing reveries are long since gone, but I find myself wondering quite often: what if? Maybe there's something for me to change, and find solace in the limbo.