a clouded, shrouded sun reminds me of a common habit of mine.

against my will, i go through days and weeks trying to survive, when i should be attempting a radical departure from the previous moment. sustaining nutrition and health is easier than ever, so why do they feel harder? i diffuse my energy into their nooks and crannies, leaving nothing extra to box up and take with me to the next site on the tour of an unknown adventure.

but it’s part of my identity. i’m the person who wishes to pacify, hang back, and listen with a tendency of questions. when a bright, hard light frames my actions, it’s studied with contempt through a lesson-learned lens. strangely enough, i don’t want to disrupt the bent fields around me.

which is a complete contrast against creating music. dreams, visions, and connections are fantasized about during a slow moment in class. i pine desperately for opportunities to exercise authenticity. but it seems that immolated desire breathes inside the lyrics and harmonies, and not in the more commonly known melodies.

as i say this, though, i see a different picture. i recall vacuuming like i’m having guests over when no one is coming. i keep my backpack organized like a boot in the military sweating under the scrutiny of their drill instructor. this calling to perform is present, but it’s like a hidden pond, lapping its shores so quietly that the parched explorer walked right past it. i show off a functional bag to myself. my patterned carpet flaunts its recent cleaning for approval from its tenant.

but, regardless of the little outputs of bravery, i don’t think i internalize our exterior accommodations as empty claims waiting for a crown. this lust for envious property or domination phased out during the adolescent years. possibly, then, is this technique of passiveness an evolved acclimatization meant to help me thrive?

what are you disappointed in? i’m not inquiring about our shattered society; the answers are meant to be personal. do you have an error, or mistake, or shameful habit, in mind?

now, what if that ugly contusion on your flawless skin is supposed to help 

you? it never intended to embarrass you. it was only trying to answer your cry.

this reversed frame of mind is a true gem; i didn’t expect to find it, but i’m happy i have. it was forged in the hot, exhausting pressures of existential, solitary thought. it fended off the possessed wolves and cursed mountain lions, both sent by an evil force of self-deprecation.

so, what does this change bring? maybe less of an instant attachment over newfound interests. or a pulled-back approach on routine obsession. i become intensely fixated. this could be the offering for peace — letting it pass.

or i’m wrong and my lackluster engagement is simply a deterrent for success. looking at this failure, i should come to the repeated realization to work harder.

but isn’t the saying “work smarter, not harder” a principle that can reject that stereotype of effort? possibly, this flow in the current of time hasn’t been manipulated for a reason.

indeed, pacing in a marathon is more important than how fast we can sprint.

– D K T


life ends. why pretend

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