Moving on

Ok, so, now what do I do with all this aggregated material? This congestion of words that’s messing up my actual digestion?

A few dozen drafts, a hundred beginnings, half as many turn of phrases. Notice how I use the quantity of my mess as a shield to palliate my fear that its quality is insufficient? I don’t think you’re supposed to call yourself out for the trick to work. But what if my trick is calling myself out?

I’m evading the question again. Should I publish what I have and clear the deck or should I stager and stage it to some sort of effect? Answering that would require I know what effect I am looking for.

Sympathy. Ouch. Automatic writing sometimes you fucking suck. But yeah, sympathy is what I seek. Sympathy as the remedy for my deflated self esteem. Sympathy like flares shot out in the night of my isolation. Sympathy to brace me since I have forgotten how to embrace me.

Blah. Isn’t all this so blah. I guess I’m disappointed. I was supposed to turn into a super hero. I was supposed to be a champion. And here I am, wondering if I can barter words for sympathy. Where is my infinite source of strength, how do I unlock all my potential? Is there another book or maybe a seminar I could consume that would reignite my fire? How about the blood of a hundred virgins? What can we sacrifice on the altars of nowadays when we don’t even know which gods to pray to?

If only I believed eating the heart of a creature could cure me of my lack of courage. If only I believed in the future as a wishing well of possibilities. Jesus. Is there anything I do believe in? I’m not sure anymore. I’m not sure if maybe I fooled myself into being the believing kind to begin with.

Serpentine, serpentine, snaking my way through my mind like a game of pac-man, eating eating all the words, diffuse diffuse all the mines, gobble gobble all the feels, unclog unclog all the synapses. Just watch out for the ghosts, the brain freezes, the gusts of disassociates, the paralyzing listlessness. And again, still, always, ask yourself. Are you winning?

3 thoughts on “Moving on

  1. Sympathy…its a tough word I think. So often it seems forced yet it is even more often something deep down you treasure. Some might see it as an oh woe is me…where are my friends to offer sympathy but I see it in your case as being so much more. You are not anymore of a super hero than I am in life. But you are because you do ask questions, you do seek answers, you do search, you do feel pain, you do write about the pain and not hide, you do keep watch in the tower of dreams hoping, yearning for one sliver of the larger dream to become reality. You have my sympathy, but you also have so much more Rain. You have my admiration and encouragement, my hope and fears, my joy and sorrow. Some may not know it, they may go through life as one giant status quo. Others may suffer every day from the minutia and drudgery of everyday life. And some question and seek ‘the answers’. You are where you need to be and I hope we all get there some day.

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