Complications

I oft times find myself in a sort of slough – creatively, spiritually, emotionally, mentally. All of the above. As if the wind has stopped blowing in my direction and the air around me has become stagnant, bogged down with the pollution of light and chemicals and societal bullshit that I am forced to trudge through every day I wake.

I have dreams of things, better things. Living in a hand-built house with a clear roof where the sun wakes me in the morning as its coming up. Where there isn’t light pollution that would stop me from living that way. Where a horse is still a realistic form of travel. Where magic is still magic. Where life is still worth living.

Have I mentioned that this system has sucked all the life and will to live out of me?
If you haven’t noticed, I’m a skeleton. Or worse, a corpse with all the rotting skin still hanging off me. Fat still collecting underneath from all the riches I still cling to, all the wealth I still engage in, all the privilege I still claim. My eyes are sunken in so far I can’t see past my own skull and my face is a ghost of what I thought it once was going to be, by this time in my life. But, all the drugs are still doing their job so I just keep walking around.

I wonder if I’m more scared of death or just suffering. Just that one split second bolt of fear that comes the moment you realise you haven’t died – but could have. Or should have. Or would have, had you not done whatever it was that preserved you.

I’m not so certain that it’s worth preserving anymore.
Maybe I’ll stop trying and see if that gets me out of this box, out of these shackles, out from behind this insurmountable wall.

If I can muster the gut to remember that life is simple and dying isn’t terrible.
And neither is very hard to accomplish.

It’s hard to tell if I can break free. Like a bird in a cage who knows the combination, but not whether it has the nerve to open the little metal gate and fly free.

Do I even remember how to fly?
Did I ever even learn?

We’ll see.

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