fitveggielife

I ask for signs and I get them. I wish to be someone else, I become her.

And yet… these rancid, decomposing thoughts keep bubbling up from some hole of death and flames. So here I am again, asking—pleading—for the ability to let it go.

I’m tired of feeling angry. I know, I know, we love to feel it. It feels—what?—meaningful? I’ve been sitting at this point for a while, and part of me feels embarrassed, but I know I’m not the only one who’s been swallowed, chewed up, and spit out by the unknown. It’s time for something fresh, but the idea sours when I try to grasp it.

Do something? Burn, I mean stab, I mean forgive—oh god no. And then I pass by a mirror and stop. Holy shit, you are so fucked. All these shadows circling like vultures, I beg of you, go away. I’m ready to move on.

If I were ready to move on, wouldn’t I have done it by now? It’s time for the tune to change, but I keep singing the same tired song. Maybe this is where time comes in. Grace. Forgiveness. I may be in hell now, but I won’t be forever. There’s my silver lining.

It’s like… if I could just create some space… stretch out these stiff, scratchy arms, give myself a little room to breathe—shh… it’s almost…

There.