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FreneticScribbler
2021-01-11 15:54:59 +00:00
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_drafts/2018-07-07-chasing-the-edge.markdown
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layout: post
title: "Chasing the Edge"
date: 2018-07-07
---
![](/img/1*CoN8gAcwONSumYsaadY8HQ.jpeg)The Edge is that which lights. That which sets the blood pumping. That which sparks the soul.
The Edge is the edge between life and death.
Chasing the Edge leads to the Rush.
The Rush is the fire lit from the Edge. The thump of heart pumping at the Edge. The blaze of soul sparked at the Edge.
The Rush is adrenaline, nothing more — nothing less.
It is also the only way I know how to *Live*.
I don’t know how to feel other than the Rush. All I have is the Edge.
The Edge makes me feel alive. Always have…always will…
Of course, the thing about the Edge is it has to be dangerous. Else it wouldn’t *be *the Edge!
Chasing the Rush is just like chasing the wind. Exciting, but ultimately futile. Each time it hits just a little less. Boosts just a little less. So I push closer to the Edge. One step, one step at a time. Chasing leaves on the breeze, head wired upwards. Couldn’t see the cliff coming up if I wanted to.
Addiction.
Addiction and…craving.
I cannot feel satisfaction. Even at the Edge, there is no satisfaction. Always demand for MORE, MORE, *MORE*. Ever greater hits, ever greater heights.
Sooner or later, it’ll kill me. Maybe then it’ll be satisfied. The Edge will have drawn the blood it demands. Maybe then *I’ll* be satisfied.

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_drafts/2018-07-08-clawmarks-on-my-memories.markdown
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layout: post
title: "Clawmarks on my memories"
date: 2018-07-08
---
![](/img/1*QiRpt7tqra3moEbFQwtsnA.jpeg)Photo by [Andy Tootell](https://unsplash.com/photos/oRhhb0f2Kic?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/search/photos/scratch?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)One of the reasons I’m so *damn* good at living for the present is that I can’t remember the past.
The instant a moment is gone it blurs, out of focus. Then it fades into the blackness. I can’t remember the mundane — what I had for lunch the other day, what movies I watched last week. Nor can I remember the special — the first kiss, the last heartbreak. It’s all gone.
Faded out.
I love it, and I *hate* it. I hate it, and I *love* it.
It’s true that I can never be satisfied [without adrenaline](https://medium.com/frenetic-scribblings/chasing-the-edge-b473b3efd3e2). But that isn’t the whole picture. Satisfaction is underpinned by *memory*. I cannot be satisfied in what I have done when I cannot remember it.
I am cursed to wander — to always chase more. Adrenaline, and everything else. I cannot learn from a past that is no longer mine. I cannot remember fondly a laugh shared. I cannot relive the pain of a past heartbreak.
I cannot remember.
No matter how hard I try to hold, the memories always slip away. No matter how fiercely I claw. I have to live for the here and now, because otherwise I ain’t got shit.
I cannot remember.
I love it.
*I hate it.*