Loveliness and compassion
Notoriety and success
Abstinence and purity
Supposed pairs like these always seem to be linked, made into a combined whole. People continually say to me that compassion is unnecessary without love, or that to be successful you need to have notoriety. And to be pure you need abstinence from what some believe to be wrong.
Honestly it pisses me off, the yes and no, the this and that of it all. The black and white defineables that people insist on shoving into my thoughts. You don’t have to abstain to be full of light; to be true…. And you definitely cannot justify a lack of compassion due to unfamiliarity…. Due to a lack of knowledge. If you’re an ass admit it, and if you don’t understand the value of yourself do not pull others into your pit of delusion; of mental blindness. Secure your right to be this and that, and a little bit of this. Make others know of your value and conviction, of your littered emotions. Fucking own it.
I wish I could, but lately… Between my lack of sleep and creeping anxieties I’ve found that I’m just a little less than this… Than that; what I want to be.
I’m in a state of perceptual asphyxiation, recited cause and recurring circumstances make me wonder for reason. I must simply be the meager makings of a destitute illusion…
I feel a little lonely
A little blinded
I don’t know why
But I really do mind
It’s all really just magic
The dollying, the twirling about
The drastic devisive contortions
Of method and means alike
It’s just a big trick; a myth
The job hunting and calorie counting
The repetition for appreciation
I really can see right through it
Because I am the magician
It’s all a trick; Abra Cadabra!
A fluttering reflection on past expression, it will engulf me… It will take me over with a hasty and feverish bout of necessity. I don’t ever feel a longing though, never a thought towards the reincarnation of relationship, or the suppression of my muddied meaning. I truly don’t…. The way I interpret and see, the way I perceive my own windy reality is a blessing, truly more beautiful and meaningful than anything else I’ve come across. It’s kept my head above the mud, above the raging dunes of depression and crashing waves of anger. My pessimistic and meaningfully meaningless outlook has kept me going.
And I think, however morose or melancholy I find myself… I rarely feel regret, I rarely need to feign empathetic decision either because I am a rotten log flowing down the river. I don’t resist anymore; As more and more of my rotted branches snap off I become increasingly lenient and rightfully resigned, and even more removed from commitment to endure. My mind allows itself to accept, to not grieve over possibilities or failures, and it allows me to keep floating down the river.
Now I can be a very anxious person, and I can be incredibly… frighteningly angry and deprived…. But in the end I am quite well suited to follow into the unknown. To delve down dark corridors and I can accept, and I’m honestly proud of that. It is one of the few things that will give me belief in myself, in my mustered resilience.
Alleviate my weakness, my strength and my beliefs… Trust me when I say I would if i could, if I could truly embrace the sanctity of my compulsion. I just want to exist without my worry or my hesitation. I simply want to be. I simply want to be me.