I think I lost myself. So here I am digging, digging, digging. Trying to find her/me. Digging so deep that it’s turning into a dang archeological excavation. I find myself labeling the layers so I can keep track of what I discover and where. I’m keeping all the artifacts until I know what to do with them. Until I know how to put all the pieces together, and understand what story it is they/I want to tell.
I read: Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself. Maybe, it is about both.
I keep watching the world and the people go round. And round. And round. Full circle. Dogs chasing their tales. Hampsters spinning on wheels. Bodies orbiting their own minds and emotions, as if they are the center of this universe. We make our own universes just so we can orbit it in circles, staring at it like it’s something fabulous or tragic or worth it. Is it worth it? What exactly is worth it? Nothing and Everything. The opposite of a deep truth is also true. This makes sense. And of course it is so senseless.
I have something inside of me that could be very good. That could DO something very good. But when you keep something inside for too long, it turns on you. So now I feel like it’s poisoning me. A blessing turned curse. Fuck. It isn’t supposed to be a burden. It isn’t supposed to be heavy. The heft of cathedral tunes. I can hear the organ in my brain right now. This is so stupid. Sometimes I just think, everything is so god dam mother fucking stupid. And sometimes it is.
Dammit. I am like a fucking electron in an atom going from one energy state to another. Except I am more like when it is in transition. I am more like its state of entropy. Don’t I have to return to a balanced state eventually? I want to be the electron that completes an octet. Perfect fulfillment. I’d like to See. Feel. Attain. That.
I need to focus. And then my blessing can be a blessing. And of course, I will see there never was a curse. Only my weak bastard mind holding me in place. I've become a statue with a brain and moving eyes. I’m as useless and still and vulnerable. I will wish for the fate of Pygmalion's beloved ivory.
I could pathetically ramble like this forever. Uselessssssssssssssssssssneeeeeeeeeeesss. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.
Fuck.
Hmmmm…..
