letters to nobody

day 2

I am me. Sometimes, I'm somebody else, but most of the times I am nobody. 

That's about all the things I am sure of. Those are all the constants in my life. If I would wake up one day and forget everything, those words would be enough to give me a brief idea of the person I am or once was. Only those words are completely wrong. If I look at them on paper I don't see myself in them. If I speak them outloud, I don't hear myself in them. That's because im still searching for the right words. 

Why words? You ask. Words are how I make sense of the world. I find beautiful words and admire them like a painting, I find sad, ugly words and I treasure them because of the emotion they induce. I treasure them because no one else will.

If someone puts in front of you multiple rubber ducks, each one more damaged than the other, which one would you pick ? You have no need for it in your life, the object has no practical use. Yet you still pick the most beautiful one out of the bunch because it pleases you visually and makes you feel like you added at least a drop of perfection into that crazy life of yours.Which one do I pick ? I don't pick one, I don't need a rubber duck. 

That's the way I would like to act. That's the way I imagine myself reacting. But in reality, I would most probably take all of them, because they might miss each other if I only take one.

 I do the same with words. I take too many and leave too little. I strive for perfection but all I end up with are ruins of the castle I tried to build but failed. Quotes crumble from the walls and at pieces of scaffolding hit me right in the head reminding me how much of a useless hobby I have. Collecting words. What a loser. 

To quote the italians, il dolce far niente. The beauty of doing nothing. 

How can such an useless hobby bring joy to someone? I ask myself that every day, I just cant seem to find the right answer. It always changes. Like me. Or someone else. Or nobody at all.Yes, I build my life on illusions, on hopeless creations of someone greater than me. I take a tiny fragment of their genius and keep it next to me, in hopes of finding the right answer at some point. I take so much and leave so little, yet they never get angry with me. Trying to form a clear idea of me using someone else's words and still failing, now that's an outstanding achievement.