Self Image

Writings on the Wall.

I am not ashamed to
say that I am fragile. Not all the time, you see. Just now. That in this
moment; these fragments of reality are breaking me. perhaps, more than they
should.  Well, cannot be entirely true…God never gives us anything that we
are not capable of dealing with. Is that hope? That the divine maker, true in
His words, has decided that this is my share of shit and as such, I am equipped
to survive it all? But it’s never that easy. It’s never either, or. It’s cyan
infused with explosions of magenta. We cease to know only “black or white” from
the onset of their creation. The idea that they exist, is the ripple that
creates every other colour. By deciding on one colour, I am presented with
five. You want chaos? Give an indecisive person multiple choices. Any choice I
make only stands to undo the essence of whatever purpose I have.  So I
will be impulsive just so I can run away from the pressure of it all. But I am
grateful for the clarity that comes with fuck-ups. So I have spent so long trying
to rebuild what I break. But I never do. It seems that the only thing that
changes is my emotions toward what is broken. It ceases to be important to my
emotion. But that, I assure you is never enough. This is the age of
enlightenment; however much I may appear to be a slave to my emotions,
reason/logic/intellect must define a greater part of said emotions. I can’t fix
things by waiting for them not to bother me anymore. simply because it invokes
an unhealthy amount of torture on my emotional wellbeing. Torture that can only
be equated to decomposition. The final stage which will be inadvertent mental
affliction. I believe that whatever state we exist in, exists because it must.
It is the state that will mould the next stage of our life, which will then
induce the next…until, like a pot, there is nothing left to mould; to be

The year has taught
me that I must fix what I can, when I can. Every single thing you do, or do not
do will have consequences. The least you can do is think through it all. 
PS: In other news…I
am on a man cleanse. It is important to note, that this, unlike the man fast
from earlier this year, is “Self imposed” I am doing this because I need (and
want) this. I am filing it under “mission unclutter!”

“I shall never get you put together entirely,
Pieced, glued, and properly jointed.
Mule-bray, pig-grunt and bawdy cackles
Proceed from your great lips.           
It’s worse than a barnyard.”
        Sylvia Plath
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