Spooky Season
The rage still feels overwhelming. It gets me every time. Like walking into a haunted house fully prepared for objects to lunge out towards you but when they do you still scream out of reflex. I feel like I could scream for days and it would still not scratch the surface. I am bubbling mad down to my core. When I am quiet that is all that is there. I am seething.
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Equally as heavy is the space I have been making. I am desperate to have a new life which requires space. Letting go of things is difficult. However, nobody tells you how difficult holding space is. Our culture is anti-space, there is always a product, there is always a fix, there is always something to plug into that hole.
There is content to fill in every second of your life. You never have to hold that seething rage in silence. You can avoid it but that only ties yourself to who you had been, and all that you had felt — delaying progress, growth, and better things. Real things like friendships, adventures, intimacy.
A popcorn and soda diet would be more beneficial than the slop we are fed today. Our minds are being used against us, our minds are being replaced with programs built off the concepts we’ve perfected. The authenticity and creativity we’ve starved for is now stolen and training the models. For what — so one day we can truly be rendered obsolete.
I feel no better than a fool to have walked into such times. My belief in you, in love, in the world. All proven falsehood now. What could come along? I dreamt of the past, clearly a world behind where we stand now. How do I build a future? Did I rise only to watch everything collapse?
