My sweet little lies...

As I sat here in utter darkness, while most of the world was still asleep, I wondered for how long I could keep up this deception. If anything is clear, is that I didn't really think all of this through. There is simply no way I can keep up this ruse. And with each passing moment it becomes clearer that I will have to bravely face the consequences of my decision. It seemed so perfect at the time, though. Like the universe was lining up circumstances exactly in my favor. I guess the lesson here is humility. To have disbelief in your trajectory, and never get blinded by the promise of a happy ending. Or perhaps the truth goes beyond that. Maybe I needed to be stripped down, as so many times before, to leave room for my newest iteration. So here I stand, devoid of ego and expectations, I give myself to you. Do with me as you will.

 

I got my head out the sunroof...

I know. It's all wrong. By rights I probably won't be here tomorrow. But if by the slimmest chance I were, it would be like in the great stories. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the resolution be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, I do understand. I know now. Heroes in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.

Something stronger that I'm used to...

This period is like being carried through life by a strong current. 

All he feels is the speed of the river, the thrill of rapids, 

never comprehending his utter lack of control, his constant peril.

Perhaps if I embrace the notion that I am already dust, long gone, already outside time and looking in, reviewing life, understanding every déja vu, I can finally be my own guardian angel. The knowledge that the scorched-black demons and the pristine, fluttering seraphs are in some sense naught but me myself unpacked, unfolded in a higher space, fill me with a sense of ease. As the myriad universe unfurls, it uncovers the bygone legends, who are in fact my once and future selves, that attribute to my blossoming into my purest and most potent forms. And these, with all their beast-heats, crowns and lightings, all their different colors, could possibly combine into one single revelation that is godlike. That is all.