(google image search: “jack in the box”)

I believe that everyone at one time or another feels broken
to some degree. What I write are my personal thoughts and not facts for me or
anyone else. What I write to day might not be what I’m thinking tomorrow… I
write for the hell of it, to release thoughts and ideas that need to be thrown
out.

Part one

Humpty Dumpty sat on a great big wall and had a great big
fall and all the kings’ men could not put him back together again.

A story about an egghead, who aimed high, but was fragile as
eggs are, hence he could not take the fall from where he had climbed. Maybe it
is my story? If only Humpty Dumpty had been a rubber ball…

I’ve always wanted to create my own world, my own life, but
something stopped me in my tracks. No great evil force, just me. Who has stolen
my will and desire, who has replaced my burning fire with apathy?

I wonder is it what I dream that drains my life? The dreams
are often anchored to the place of my child hood, am I’m trapped there, in a
playground?

Apparently I’m a man soon to be 29, but I feel like a child
and act like one. A man should be able to take control of himself and his
environment. I do neither and for some reason I don’t want to.

I ask, why do I feel like this? I don’t want to feel like
this…

Imagine being a ball on a boat, he will not have control
over where he is going, it will be determined by the waves. So I ask you, no I
beg you to tell me, who has taken control over my emotions? Can an exterior
force take control over such things? Or is it, as psychologists might believe,
that there are issues and suppressed feelings inside me tearing at the very
core of my subconsciousness?

Ever since I was a child I longed to find a partner or
partners to explore with, to come with me on my pirate ship to explore the
seven sees. However the sees I wish to explore are as dark as oil and my eyes
want to go beyond the sole. I can not explore on my own any more, I’ve come to
a stop or meet the wall if you will and I can not walk through it without my
travel companions…. I cannot live alone. Is this the feeling that has reduced
me to crumbles?

I have sliced two parts of my hart and given it to two
girls, one could no longer travel with me for she was living a lie and the
other did not see me and what she saw was a man she did not want. I want to
take back what I gave, but once I have given a slice of me it will be theirs
for ever more if they want it or not.

I’m sitting hear only able to think about my own issues, my trousers
down to my ankles, fatty hair, my shirt unbuttoned and a breath that could kill
a pig. I wanted to take people to distant worlds and places where strange ideas
grew on trees, but the only place I can take you to is my deteriorating mind.

I want to look at the wall and know that when I touch it my
hand will go through it and my body will enter a different dimension with a
paradigm unlike ours. I wish I could go to hell and charm Lilith and Persephone
to guide me through darkness; I wish I could go to heaven and subvert angels.
But I do not have such powers; I can only dream about them. Thank God you might
say…

I close my eyes and wish I was not limited by the box I live
in, I wish I could see out side it. How wonderful would it be to look at
something and see the unexpected to see it in a new light? How fortunate was
the man who walked out of Plato’s cave and how tragic, to die because he saw
the world in a different light. Heraclitus said that you never steep in to the
same river twice, but it looks the same to me. Hume believed that you could
never be shore the sun will rise tomorrow just because it did yesterday. Hence
forth I can not be shore I will wake up a beetle tomorrow, but every day I wake
up human and every day I wake up I start the same circle I can not brake out
of. I’m trapped in a feedback. The high pitch sound getting louder and louder
until it brakes….

I look at you, I stare at you, I strain my eyes and all I
can see is another puppet in a box, just like me, for ever sentenced to live a
life according to the rules and laws of conduct, science and morality. The
social contract as described by people like Hobbes, that we freely entered in
to an agreement where we gave up some freedom for the benefit of all to create
the modern society. I ask my self; no I ask YOU, have we given up too much?
Should we not just bounce out of the box on a spring and scream I’M ALIVE!

I want to see fire, desire, burning passion,
unpredictability, chaos, madness… if only the story of the Dice Man was true…
but all I see is conformity every where I look I see people within a box, I
want to see people who are truly being who they are without any external
stimuli, people who are truly being true to their sole… why can I not do that?
Why can I not see that…? Am I just too trapped in my own head, am I blind or is
what I’m seeing true…?

Another answer is that I project my self on every one I see,
just because I can not be who I am, does not men that everyone else is like me.

Who am I? What do I want? Why don’t I decide, why don’t I
act? Why do I hide in trashy but enjoyable fiction?

I’m afraid, that is why. I’m sitting in the corner of the
room shivering like a little boy, I’m laying six foot under screaming come save
me! Come brake out of this box with me! I don’t want to brake out of the box on
my own; I want to brake out with people who want to be free and alive! That is
why we stay inside, because we do not wish to be alone, we are social
creatures, that is why we give up some of our freedom. That is why we don’t
brake out, that is why we create sub groups instead… like Punks, Goths, Metal
heads, Satanists, Fetishists, Gays, Mods, Hooligans, Evangelists, BDSM’ers etc

Choosing a sub group is like buying a suit, it defines you,
it predicts your behaviour it limits you because you are not a real what ever
if you do not abide by the rules…
we are not governed by rules, they do not define who we are they are
their to create order, understanding and peace of mind. I believe we are
unpredictable creatures trying to create a predictable world, a lie, and in
doing that we are limiting our selves.

I say yes to contradictions, I say yes to diversity, I say
yes to chance, I say yes to hypocrisy, I say yes to impossibilities. I scream
it out loud like a mad preacher of Jesus Christ in the streets of London and then
I cry…

The only ears that hear my cries for freedom and the only
hands that can pick me up are mine. But where do I find the strength, were do I
find the will when it is lost in the tear of a child?

The only true prison is our mind.