Apocalyptic Thought

 Nothing can change now, but my altitude. The feelings will all still be there, but the emotions will ebb and flow. Cast out and recede. Yet I don’t know to heal it. I don’t know how to experience them without hurting someone. Concealing sounds like the only choice. Sharing care only space be created; but I live on limited land. So I have to figure out how to be the same, yet flourish.

 I never understood when to quit something. Usually, the task fades, allowing the decision to be made with inaction; the weaker of the option. Decided when something is over has not be a strength, but I made it a focus to do it more. I've recognized when something can no longer continue.  I'm understanding more than ever when stubbornness is clouding my judgement. Letting go is not a part of my life.  Now I have to learn when to let something go.

How many have you had? Over the last three years, I've had several. Several of my identities have been force out of my life. Forced meaning that I can no longer claim them. Two have been with employment. One is a complete title. Another is a hobby that I dedicated a third of my life to. In this way, my life has changed. It has taken a lot of reflection and external help to understand what this process looks like. It takes a lot to heal to rid yourself of rot. It takes a lot to build back that tissue. Change are necessary. Longing for the past is not methodology. It's not a way forward. Just looking forward is hard enough. It scares me to think about much this required, but I fear a new question.  How many do I need?

 It's better to know how to do this than just faking it. Saying it over and over again makes it feel fraudulent and cheap. It's that automatic order of greasy, guilt food at your worst restaurant. It's that your day is great, then transition to fake question of "and you?" It's the questions asked where the answer is not cared about.  It's pretending to know someone's name.  Yet soon the connection happens where the appreciation is authentic. The memory cannot be altered or misplaced. Elements of life because distinct and to deter from it would create a sunken void of joy. This time is means something. It means everything. So much so that you keep repeating it everyday.

 I realized the other day how important it is to appreciate what I have. The came about realizing the important of needs. They aren't trite. They are necessary. They aren't excessive. They allow for comfort.  I don't know what comfort is.  It doesn't come easy. It's always temporary and short; fleeting and short lived; ugly and destructive. The comforts that I can reach are easy to attain. Maybe that's why they don't last. Maybe that's why I hate.  Soon I'll discover what they look like. Right now, one of them is writing. I hope my writing isn't upset. I've abandoned it multiple times. Like most things I've loved — I've done it at least once.  It's time for change. 

 Something that's everywhere and not where at all. A lasting touch, fading into a memory.  A nightmare. A longing. A begging.  A crying.  A regret. A fire that fuels a smoldering ash. A missed detail of your favorite story. Hated for being so loving. Something filled with shame done solo. Consuming it burns, searing the skin.  Sex destroys because it breeds life. 

 Imagine if people treated kindness like sex. Offered crudely, but frequent. Worried about, but offered in a big swing. Pursued with vigor, given often. Given causally, without whim. Though frowned upon, bought and sold. Imbued in everything, suggestive, overblown. We probably still wouldn’t appreciate it.