In(tro)spections

Survival having been foisted on to me, it is with a clear Eye that I now look upon my murky Mind. I see one who, crushed by the years, then had the rock rolled off him, and was told to go his way. One who was battered, bruised, scarred, bleeding, limping, anxious, reduced to a tiny puddle of human essence.

Having been incinerated alive, there was almost nothing left of me. I took it upon myself to heal, and I did. My survival is no longer in jeopardy. I can smile, I can love, I can function, I can stand up for myself, I can feel pleasure. As if the symbolical conduits between my Brain and the rest of my Being had been re-established.

But there is a part of me that sometimes still doesn’t want to live. Doesn’t feel it’s worth it. Doesn’t believe he can build anything except in his mind. Doesn’t want to keep going in an unsuitable life with a smile.

Doesn’t want. And yet does. It’s Ying/Yang, Black/White, and I’m ever trying to reconcile the two without it becoming a blurry glob of greyness.

It’s like I don’t care anymore, so everything is easier. But I fear it’s a dangerous attitude; how can I tell if I am being indifferent to something that is not acceptable?

I don’t know. I don’t care. Case in point.

Before, I cared but couldn’t feel; now I feel but do not care.

And as a result I feel closer to the Void than ever before. Infused with the Imminent End in All Things. Struck by the inevitability of solitary suffering. Stunned by the infuriating irritation of Possibilities.

‘At Peace because I am alone,’ is probably what it comes down to. I see it, accept it, but am struggling to acknowledge all the far-reaching ramifications.

But none of my questioning matters
I still have to
nod and obey and comply
curb and control and mute
whether I wrack my brains to create
or numb it with diversions…
it’s all the same.

It’s all the same. But is it? No, not entirely. The charged up voltage I feel in me when I’m right in the center of the exhilarating Mindtrip… that’s not the same.  But it’s so seldom that I feel it, so difficult to achieve in this context, that it’s a constant struggle not to
give up give in give way
to Stupor & Silence
Fear & Loathing
Despair & Distress.
Alone.

So I hang on (to you)
and I stand straight (by you)
and I feel (with you)
and I write (for you)
and it keeps me going.

Maybe all it is
is the result of
having been famished;
I need to take it slow
or else be sick
not aim for the gluttonous feast
but not give up
on nourishment either
take my time
reclaim (what has been lost)
rebuild (my strength)
re-establish (my world)
recover (my Self)
remove (what is harmful)
retrace (my steps)
return (to my rightful Mindscape).

Until finally
I can plunge and swim
in the waters of my living Self.