It’s been awhile since anything new erupted from the tips of these fingers. It’s all been re-writing, editing, and polishing of turds that have dropped over the many previous months. Angry, pessimistic bombs from the bowels of a poisoned mind. Shine up another serving of raging misanthropy and ship it off to people that, hopefully, aren’t sick of that kind of shit. Unlike myself.
I’ve escaped from the primordial ooze of my own misery on more than one occasion before, only to slide back into it when the weaker parts of my personality succumb to darkness.
A shady soul perched on the precipice between light and dark has a much more difficult time falling into heaven than hell. Comfort zone and all that jazz. It’s less scary to confront the misery you know than to face the possibility of alien happiness.
Convince yourself that all the horrible things the devil on your shoulder whispers in your ear about the world are true, and forever dwell in familiar disappointment. A convenient excuse for avoiding people’s inherent brightness.
Not everyone is terrible; only the ones that are, and if one goes out the door each day expecting to consistently cross paths with cretins, don’t be surprised if it happens.
In most cases, even with such a shitty attitude toward our fellow humans, we rarely find ourselves in situations where we're dealing with scum. Much the opposite, in fact. More often than not, the people we encounter on a regular basis are mostly tolerable, their glaring faults aside. What does that say about us narcissists then?
The worst person I have to deal with on a daily basis is me. And I’m tired of him.
Sometimes all it takes is the slightest change in perspective, some new scenery, a different environment, and new energy to free the parts of a soul that have been chained in the dungeon for so long. After so many years, it often comes as a surprise to find that there's still life in them.
Thank you, tenacious optimism, for never giving up, though I have abused you more times than I can count. May I soon find the courage to put my life in your hands and never look back.
Life could be everything we ever dreamed it would be, when innocence wasn’t too embarrassed to admit that such lofty goals were so big that, in order to realize them, one would have to become a god; a benevolent sovereign, and not the cancerous despot of a grey and withered wasteland that the mind so often becomes.
Do whatever is necessary to find strength and courage. The courage to stop choosing fodder for later excuses, and the strength to stop the unhealthy cycle of familiarity that affirms poor opinions of the many, based on the few who offer no inspiration for changing such opinions.
Recognize and admit that all actions are the responsibility of whoever consents to play the game.
Shift the focus and revel in the wonder of a reality that’s always been there.
Life is the generally sum of what you choose to direct your attention to, not some arbitrary punishment for those with bad luck.
Wise sounding words from a brain that’s been anything but.
Life’s a work in progress. May we find the path that leads in a positive direction before the crushing weight of depression, fear, and pessimism becomes too much to overcome, and what remains of our magical spark is extinguished forever.
Another chance for change appears out of the blue. A quick hello morphs into more than one could have imagined. Contentment and care threaten to soften the hardness of a ragged heart. On all fronts, the faces of strangers emit the sentiments of friends.
Where have these kind souls been all my life?
Right here, in the places taken for granted as being unworthy. In a place that jaded assumptions had painted over with a brush that only surrender could shine through.
Well, what now?
All of the freebies in life were long ago exhausted, and the pain of paying the price for poor decisions has become unbearable to the point of permanent submission to failure. No longer can faithful feet propel the hopeless along a familiar path that has proven only to produce regret.
Break down and break through to something completely different. Trade the illusion of having control over one’s sad destiny for the alternative of uncontrolled joy and success. Step out of the way of the self and let spirit lead us to a place of peace and pleasure.
May sensibility prevail long enough for misery's hungry addiction to relinquish command for a heartbeat; until the city spires of the promised land come rising out of the desert dust. And then, not even the dumbest souls can bungle the few remaining miles. Please?
Comentarios