Nothing Else I Can Say: part one.
I've been feeling rather ill recently- no surprises there, it's all metaphysical. But for the first time since last winter I am able to feel cold, and the pleasurable sting of natural weather below 70 degrees. Nothing is set in stone.
Again, Again: part two
I understand the pain I am and should be feeling, but there is a liberation in solitude. I'm growing to enjoy it.
Caught in a Bad Romance: part three
But how does one reconcile the simultaneous upsurge of freedom and positivity one feels with total liberation and abandonment of the concept 'self-preservation' with the crushing sense of weight and negativity that is being sucked into another person's mire? I understand pain, and offer up a prayer for those whose faith is dearly departed, but I'm not about to watch her martyr herself while crucifying me as the reason for her self-inflicted righteousness. Thanks, no thanks.I'd rather be a heathen.
And if this is to explain my self-imposed silence for the past week then to all those in-the-know, I'm willing to attribute all to the process of healing. Fights happen, friends are lost, and I've received my lumps for it, believe you me. But there is nothing worse than the pain felt by an empathetic person stooping to help the miserable. This, perhaps explains Dante's reaction in the swamp of sorrows. I'm not quite ready to beat back the heads of those who would drag me down into their miserable midst- but another two days of that heat and her searing scorn and I might just have grabbed for my cricket bat.
Poker Face: conclusion
In the meantime the world still spins. Life is too short to let drama overtake you. Make a fiction, tell a lie, and make that the most fucking real lie you've ever told. That's what art is. I believe that, and for too long my truth has been a fiction, but that didn't work. Now's the time to make a spectacle and call it me.
No comments:
Post a Comment