Sometimes, It gets worse...

And I wrote this two days following on the plane home.



I think I'm close to figuring it out. I wish to be both special and at peace, but in my mind I doubt this is so. I want to be desired, and yet safe, and my mind, again, says no. How am I to get what I want when it is outside all logical parameters? How can I rise to godliness in my dreams, and yet happily awaken and descend back for the sake of sentiment? How could anybody do this without feeling the tedium and the persistence of the routine without soon choosing one or the other? How could anybody, eventually, not just become tired?

For me, I am confined in this battle of difference and belonging, each vying for pride of place. I should not fear normalcy as I do. I should not long for it in the times that I take a break from fearing. I should not think like this. As it stands, I manage, but a day doesn't, and hasn't seemed to pass when I do not feel the requirement to empty my soul into the unreal that kicks and screams to be real. Everybody lives, everybody manages in other ways, so why am I so different? "Because I am a writer," nonsense, no, that is not enough. "Because I can be nothing but a writer," now that is more appropriate. I am what I have not ceased to be, what I have not sacrificed, bargained away and discarded. That is all that remains of me. I have kept the fire, what trails in beauty and does not reveal its stains, its ugliness until it is gone and we spend years wandering dazed, changed in its glow.

I remember moments of bliss like this, ones that long ago were not from invention and suspension. They came along with everybody else's joy, just another fragment that we leap for in this world, and clutch to our chests so tightly, wishing it into us so that we might recall it whenever we wish, whenever it seems that it was part of a long-gone limited edition. It was wonderful, and complete satisfaction with mortality.

I live in fear that having let that go will be either my downfall, or my endurance. I only hope that in neither I am alone.


P.S But I am not alone

The End

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