"To become different from what we are, we must have some awareness of what we are." (Lee)
A schism happened today: a choice between continued pain and suffering or extraction of the troubled branch. Sometimes, you must break yourself to heal your life, and the lives of others around you.
The poison sinks quickly into the bloodstream and erodes your bones, until you are nothing but failure and fracture. And regret and anger.
To be human is to be broken. And angry.
Underneath the tough shell, we are wired and woven by threads of misfortune and regret, by the silk of depression and seething discomfort. It is said that we are the sum of our choices, but circumstances often lead to unplanned destinations.
When fate reorients your happy path, it's hard to find it again. You think you're ready for change, and then it happens. Brutal and belligerent. You made all the right choices, and still end up unhappy. It's as if antithesis is our inevitable antimatter, bound to the fibers of our shadow selves, echoes of our fading past and the resonance of generations of the struggle
Push the boulder to the tip of one precipice, only to slip your grip and lose everything you gritted for.
Seems to be the way of the day. Take sides. Undermine. Isolate. Strip away humanities and re-armor for war. Every choice a challenge, every skirmish a siege. Always steps away from savagery, a few clicks removed from rage.
It's been a long time coming, I know. The pressure has been rising under the surface like Kilauea, fissures and cracks spewing forth fire and destruction on a far too regular basis. The magma creeps across the scorched earth slowly and impossibly, creating a new planet and erasing the world that once was. A new earth,
built by the blood of nature. There is no divine power that can stop the core from bleeding out, once the cracks are permanent. We are insignificant, frail flowers set next to a brimming volcano, one split away from erasure,
one fracture away from