Close to the edge of another backdoor...
There are two threads: The tumultuous and the ardent. The first is what we live every day. It's based on what happens, everything is cause-effect. Everything. All you think, feel, every action in your day has taken your entire life to calculate. Some end up better than others, noticing the flow more and are fighting... not to escape it, but to control it. If you don't do that, you become a slave to your own destiny; fate's whore.
The second is the imagined. Your goal, the thing you embrace in your scarlet dreams. Too many people neglect this pipeline. But what can someone really achieve?
It isn't not weakness that defeats someone, it's losing determination. Validating the loss is the same as acknowledging its shadow; a spectre that steals light from every source. That's when the giving up starts. I've been stuck in the same place for so long that I forgot why I was here. I forgot that there are bloody, angry gears churning to raise a fist. It only stops building when it breaks. It's like listening to a cresting war drum.
Disfigured beliefs and scarred skin are the only result.
Beyond the faultline, the air tastes fresh. Yet there's always another crack in the world, just over the next mountain....
I wish that I could stare down with objective thinking. I wish that there really was a rhyme and reason to what people do. But there isn't. There's no prediction, no forecast. Reality isn't how vibrant the grass you walk on may seem. Underneath is the ghost of every single moment of life. It's a ghost that pushed someone I loved right into that breach. There is no rational thinking on this plane. You sink or you swim, and neither sparks interest.
The second is the imagined. Your goal, the thing you embrace in your scarlet dreams. Too many people neglect this pipeline. But what can someone really achieve?
It isn't not weakness that defeats someone, it's losing determination. Validating the loss is the same as acknowledging its shadow; a spectre that steals light from every source. That's when the giving up starts. I've been stuck in the same place for so long that I forgot why I was here. I forgot that there are bloody, angry gears churning to raise a fist. It only stops building when it breaks. It's like listening to a cresting war drum.
Disfigured beliefs and scarred skin are the only result.
Beyond the faultline, the air tastes fresh. Yet there's always another crack in the world, just over the next mountain....
I wish that I could stare down with objective thinking. I wish that there really was a rhyme and reason to what people do. But there isn't. There's no prediction, no forecast. Reality isn't how vibrant the grass you walk on may seem. Underneath is the ghost of every single moment of life. It's a ghost that pushed someone I loved right into that breach. There is no rational thinking on this plane. You sink or you swim, and neither sparks interest.
posted by Anonymous at 9:15 PM
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