are we all only co-pilots on our plane ride of emotions? here i sit toggling between anger and sadness like a hologram spitting in and out of picture. tomorrow i’ll be ashamed of today’s actions. then i’ll feel belonging. after that there’ll be too little optimism for rationality. then it’s guilt over what i can’t control. what crash course is this? how is my craft still functioning?
i’d like to retire this beast of a skin. i don’t call for a memorium, a grave, or an urn. i ask for the same goodness i was shown from this world — not even stopping to think about it.
terrible acts of depravity recur over and over again, repeating their scratched record. now it seems static is the only music left. the classical innocence is long gone. are we getting better? maybe we should ask our forests, rivers, and oceans about how great we’re doing. am i getting better? dsm v would say so, but i’ve memorized the final answer in the back. it’s simply a matter of time before i’m a textbook definition again.
what a sinister concept formed by the universe to let our memories fade so we can experience our darkest moments one more time. then another. if i could realize the familiarity of these roads, i’d have a chance at preventing the slow burn of tar dripping down my neck.
but that’s on me, not the cosmos. it’s my awareness and lack of care that cycle me through the same situations. states of mind may enter and leave as they please, but my actions are no cockpit. they’re a stark room with two doorways clearly marked. it’s my responsibility to process their directions.
couldn’t i claim i’m internalizing and performing the sights already unfolding around me? why choose the whole, healthy road when most of the world suffers from malnutritions of the body, mind, and heart. the settings that cast demeaning looks my way because i’m trying to express the true me are not meant to handle originality. they don’t want appreciation or gratitude. their appetite is for crackles of power summoned from the open wounds of the weak. i’m the prey laws of nature weed out and banish from existence. my confidence is not vested in the continuance or evolution of our current world. because of this, inertia bulldozes over my protest as it paves the way for a new wave of ruthless renewal.
it’s no wonder i attract mutinies on my own ship; i don’t fit in and they don’t want me to. but what did the stereotype ever truly progress but its own supports? here we are, masses of outcasts and self-destructive epitomes of devolution warring against ourselves. but then those great, unknown forces of nature we all hold dear shoot artillery shells from some unknown hideout right into our bedrooms with the slogan “that’s life”.
are you strapped to an electrocution chair, tortured into playing spin the wheel with your feelings, your identity, your groupthink, and the fate of your relationships? do you understand what it means to be at odds with the single mightiest ruler reigning over us — life?
it’s no wonder i feel so chaotically alone.
– D K T