This is what I know. People love to be happy. People want to be happy. Yet, people are rarely happy for very long. I am no self help artist, although, I do try and help myself. The pendulum which as followed me as long as I can remember has again swung to a familiar place. Inward, always inward. Self-centered loathing. I have spent the better part of two days trying to fight my deep rooted need to punish myself for imperfection. Who do I think I am anyway? Perfection is basically theoretical in the most clinical of settings, let alone human interaction.
Decisions have been made. Back to the basics. I am, I can, I will...
Oh, I turned so far outward, expecting, craving, averting. I let id in, turned ego up and went forth. Recipe for misdeed and disorder. My outward voice became so loud, it was all I can hear. Somewhat reflective of a child's ever changing need belief. I headed face first into a crisis of which the only solution I have ever know is to begin again. Fortunately that is very workable and can be quite positive.
What comes next? Only tomorrow knows.
They say an end can be a start
Feels like I've been buried yet I'm still alive
It's like a bad day that never ends
I feel the chaos around me
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment