Sometimes I feel porous, absorbing the emotional weight of an environment or person, sensitive to their disposition, sincerity and artificiality. Likewise, I am equally affected by reasonable positivity, as long as it’s not in opposition of rationale – a recipe for irritation. This has proven to be an excellent tool for evaluating a persons character, an empathic mallet that swings with near precision, rarely missing the mark. Years of astute perception have left me black and blue from rebound, realizing the degree of dissimulation that presents with each person, a mental gauge that reads as medium-moderate with most, as low for few (authentic) and high for many (faux people).
I live in a society where image reigns ruler, a trump to reality that is often in contravention of our desired portrait. Everywhere I look, I am surrounded by “filler”, a chemical substitution or enhancement that poisons our bodies, manipulates our mind, leaving us subordinate and indoctrinated into a false ideation of ourselves, others and this world. Sometimes I wonder if others see it, if I’m alone in this reflection that leaves me frustrated and demanding a reset. Something or someone is in control of the marionette as the movement feels inorganic and forced in my recovery.
Am I defiant or inspired by the vastness of what can be in contrast to what is? Life offers a wide array of experience and yet the vast majority of us are repeating the same tasting menu, an amuse-bouche that is rarely proceeded by lifes’ entree yet we are suspiciously satisfied in this dystopia. I feel restless. Am I exactly as I am or how I’m wanted? As your mind processes that question, consider the influence that acceptance plays in your decisions, past and present. We hold self servant behaviour in low regard, treating it as selfish though I think the intent behind this connotation is to suppress disillusion – and bolster delusion. Our focus on ourselves is often neglected and tethered to the impact of our actions on others. “Big picture” thinking that suggests that we should compromise for the greater good or comfort?. This is not to say that my happiness should infringe on anyone elses’ though my consideration has been honed to avoid self-sabotage, admittedly divergent.
I think acceptance is overrated and overvalued, a perishable comfort that expires quickly and seeks life-long replenishment. I can see how this like-minded thinking can lead to greater control of society, a sanctimonious complexion caked on by makeup, cracked and faulted. I question its value at such a high cost. Perhaps I’ve become jaded by death, having dodged his/her scythe on multiple occasions and now re-processing the mechanics of life as I know it.
Over the last 3 years, my mind has fallen victim to multiple high impact collisions, each more jarring than the last. In these, moments of clarity often follow before they’re stifled by the noise of my reality, a control that forces me into submission but not before I take notes to come back to…
I am angry, a fire that has caught at the surface of my being and runs rampant in my refuge. My bones feel like kindling, dry and highly susceptible to combustion, my spirit is left to simmer, like molten lava on the precipice of eruption. If that weren’t enough, I teeter totter between happy and sad, optimistic and pessimistic, therapy induced but also a byproduct of being in a perpetual state of pins and needles.
I’ve been rendered emotionally volatile, seeking to purge vexing surface sentiment to suppress a nuclear explosion. …..BOOM
My body has been systemically compelled to shed its mortal life-force and be twice-replaced by someone else’s. You can see how I could develop separation anxiety and a general sense of fear that has me clawing at the walls – my manic panic.
A strobe light is radiating in synchrony to lifes’ metronome, my mechanical heart valve — delivering a punch of colour and never-ending reminder that I was re-tuned… Sometimes I wonder whether my defects were a result of design or malfunction and what that says about intervention; nonetheless, I am grateful for it.
As I wind down, I remain uninfluenced by others emotions or environment – a neutral reflection from the comfort of my couch, alone and uninterrupted. What once would have been an evanescent thought is a now a documented unhinged rambling.
I’ll return to my purkatory, waiting for the java to brew to keep me lucid -my bi-daily potion.
As you were.
The Hopeful Motif 