Thursday, December 29, 2011

Again After So Many "Word-Years".

Hello.

This is Amy attempting to write again. I have abandoned myself for too long. It has been a brooding and trying time, although I will assure you like how I always have, that this is nothing more than an excuse. It is easier to sink myself in the swirl of sadness and murky feelings than to brave myself and face the mirror. At 26, you cannot kid yourself and still use that adolescent line of "the world just doesn't get us". Because after hopping from one place to another and always coming back to the same miserable spot you choose to cower yourself in, really, do you think the root problem is the surrounding?

I have become too comfortable in babying myself with the idea of accepting my dark side that it has fashioned itself into a form of a beanbag to cushion the blow of necessary missteps and fall that may follow the effort towards self-proliferation. It is a mere deception, it has been proven time and time again, but I suppose I like lying to myself.

And now, even after spilling this and re-reading it, the true meaning of it is still not hammering me where it hurts most. At best, it reads as a glaring, but passing remark. That is how chronically and morbidly I have been cheating on myself. The first step to anything is identifying what the problem is and admitting it. And then what? You can tell me what to do next. I already know it myself too. What you cannot do is make me do it.

I have the knowledge any philosophical guru may dispense. But I don't have their wisdom. And I sure as hell don't have the will or ultimately the belief in myself. Most everyone I meet I instantly give a free pass to magnify themselves before me. So as I shrink and shrink further and weep in the backroom- I built that room, and I drank that shrinking potion, and I walked myself there.

Do you know how much these all are not making sense in my head? Somewhere inside there, a part of my brain is shut. I am not waking up.

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