Roots

I'm defined not by what I am, but by what I'm not. What I'm not is getting to be a much shorter list. One small step. A few old songs. It's a little less like war paint now, even though I'm still picking up that shield and sword. All things to everyone. What am I gonna be? I'm wound up too tight. I need to get rid of my guilt complex. Complexes. My subscriptions. The dirty old river keeps rolling into the nightmares. Water under the bridge. No fear, no doubt. Last call, you can't stay here. Oh what can it mean? Now you know how happy I can be. What's next? When you can't walk anymore, you keep on crawling. You keep moving because there's nothing else to do. My contradictions are my trouble. That's how you get to be your own enemy. With a self like this. I can't fight it. Face the music. That's what I'm doing, facing the music.
Dancing in the moonlight.

Daydream Believer

Afraid

What happens now? What can happen, really? What do you do, what can you do, when you realize that you are everything that you hate about the world, about people. There isn’t much to do at that point. When you realize your own capabilities and rather than being exhilarated and invigorated, you’re petrified, afraid to move, afraid to further complete the transformation. But then there hasn’t been a transformation, you were the beast all along, the thing you despised and feared. I conjure up the thought of being gone. I couldn’t. I can’t. Actually, I can. It wouldn’t be too hard, at least logistically. But the thing is that all those things I thought I couldn’t do, that I couldn’t bring myself to do, I can. Only problem is it goes both ways. The good and the bad. I can tell those lies, say those words that will do what my fists and fingernails cannot, only from the inside out. Someone stop me? Can they? I’m not sure I should be allowed to keep up like this. Maybe it’s just the worry, the anxiety. Maybe the drugs help. They’ve got a pill for that. And a pill for when the first pill works too well. And a pill for the nausea brought on by the combination of the first two pills. I’m not sure I want to be doped into humanity. Or out of it. I’m not sure. I feel like I should just have to suck it up and deal with what and who I am, but on the other hand, what if it is more than my mind chasing its tail? What then? Every thought and plan shattered and shut off. A scary thought. If the darkest hour comes before the light, where is the light? I could use some light right now. The scariest bit is that I don’t know which bits are real, which bits are reactionary, which bits I just made up somewhere inside my head. I want to be brave. I want to be free. Can I do that without being uncaring, cold, unconnected. I know now that I can disconnect, I’m just not sure that I want to.

My wild times aren’t over yet. I have so many thrills to taste, so much adrenaline waiting for a rush. Sometimes that means doing stupid things. Things that a part of me will regret. Maybe the whole unanimous decision thing isn’t the best plan. Let’s try quorum instead. Perhaps my wild time has begun. A couple of days ago, someone told me that something I’d done was something they’d be too scared to risk. All of a sudden, I’m back on the road. The wagon can wait.

I can make it. I can smile at him. For some reason that was hard before. Every time I looked at him the words he said rose unbidden into my head and somewhere inside me something crumpled and all I could do was stare. Wrathful. Wrath born of hurt. We keep getting thrown together. By the images, we want to be the same, but then maybe we didn’t see the same thing in the picture. I have to put it aside. I have to prove how strong I am. I wanted to be stronger before. Gaining strength takes time and patience. I tried to rush it and got another blow. Keep breathing. Keep the rhythm section steady. Our homes and our rights. Ignore the invasion. Stop asking why it’s this way. It is. Trust that you’ll get through it. You will. Let it become a dance. She’s stronger than she looks. It was never about beauty. It was always about control. Everything connects. It’s all about power. Was I more powerless in being deceived or in choosing knowingly? It’s okay not to be okay for awhile. Maybe a little more bass, a little more thrash. Look out the window and remember why you’re doing this. What’s the place of secrets in this? Smile at the stranger. Become a stranger perhaps? Change takes effort, it takes control, discipline. Push your limits. Where is that line, is it better to forgive or not? Eventually this won’t matter. Do I have to act while it does? What does she want from this? Beautiful but deadly, strong and free. Maybe my nationality defines me more than I thought it did. Does it take more strength to strike the blow or to stay it? You’re doing better on your own. What am I buying in to? Selling out or buying in? What happens when the things I want to badly to believe are true aren’t?

I keep dreaming.
Daydream Believer