Personal Intangibles
There's a part of me inside my head, inside my heart, inside my soul, that no matter how I circle around it I just can't touch nor bear to scrutinize for very long. The core of all my pain, that bright sharp pinpoint of pain, pain, pain. It is cold, a coldness that's even deeper than spine chilling freeze. It's hard, diamond hard. It is there and it's stuck there, embedded in my self. It is part of me that won't come off, won't go away. Won't even diminish.
All this pain seems to be caused by the disintegration of my belief in my self. Reason concludes that I ought to let things be, let life go on the same. Because nothing I say or do, at this point will matter. Everything will come easier on time. And understanding too... perhaps. Yet emotions rage in confusion and in waves of black despair. And the child inside is throwing tantrums, demanding that something be done NOW. And with that comes the anxiety that if I don't do something now, there will not be any guarantee that I will be able to do anything at all later on.
Nothing stays the same. And that kinda makes it hard to keep focused. I lose track of my dreams, what with the perspective constantly changing. It's far easier to forget everything else along with the pain than to remember and constantly hold a grudge against myself for being so stupid. Besides, no change, no growth, no life. Living, really being alive, is a constant process not a state of being simply alive.
Life goes on, even after I thought my world has fallen into rubble. It goes on and on and on. The world moves on along with it and so I go along else be left behind, forever living in a past that won't go away. I can't give up. It's too easy to just stop and stagnate and not care and despair and wallow in self-pity. Too easy. Nobody said life was easy. Nobody said life was fair. I've learned to stubbornly move on through the confusion, through the pain. What won't kill me will make me stronger. I live, taking one disaster at a time.
The future remains unwritten. Nobody knows what's going to happen next. There are probabilities, certain things that become predictable (like the season and city traffic jams), but no one is certain what tomorrow may bring. There is still a chance that I can make it to where it is I want to go. I can still forge a better life out of the mess I created on growing. No one can tell me otherwise, it is my life after all. My future is a riot of colors, wild and crazy, neither dark nor bright.
The future remains undecided. Today I make the choices that decided my future. I am scared of the unknown. Who isn't? But I take a deep breath... and flip a coin.
Disclaimer: This is fiction. I wrote this for an essay book I am working on. I have no personal angst whatsoever. Life is beautiful and I love mine.
All this pain seems to be caused by the disintegration of my belief in my self. Reason concludes that I ought to let things be, let life go on the same. Because nothing I say or do, at this point will matter. Everything will come easier on time. And understanding too... perhaps. Yet emotions rage in confusion and in waves of black despair. And the child inside is throwing tantrums, demanding that something be done NOW. And with that comes the anxiety that if I don't do something now, there will not be any guarantee that I will be able to do anything at all later on.
Nothing stays the same. And that kinda makes it hard to keep focused. I lose track of my dreams, what with the perspective constantly changing. It's far easier to forget everything else along with the pain than to remember and constantly hold a grudge against myself for being so stupid. Besides, no change, no growth, no life. Living, really being alive, is a constant process not a state of being simply alive.
Life goes on, even after I thought my world has fallen into rubble. It goes on and on and on. The world moves on along with it and so I go along else be left behind, forever living in a past that won't go away. I can't give up. It's too easy to just stop and stagnate and not care and despair and wallow in self-pity. Too easy. Nobody said life was easy. Nobody said life was fair. I've learned to stubbornly move on through the confusion, through the pain. What won't kill me will make me stronger. I live, taking one disaster at a time.
The future remains unwritten. Nobody knows what's going to happen next. There are probabilities, certain things that become predictable (like the season and city traffic jams), but no one is certain what tomorrow may bring. There is still a chance that I can make it to where it is I want to go. I can still forge a better life out of the mess I created on growing. No one can tell me otherwise, it is my life after all. My future is a riot of colors, wild and crazy, neither dark nor bright.
The future remains undecided. Today I make the choices that decided my future. I am scared of the unknown. Who isn't? But I take a deep breath... and flip a coin.
Disclaimer: This is fiction. I wrote this for an essay book I am working on. I have no personal angst whatsoever. Life is beautiful and I love mine.
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