it's nothing except everything I've ever know about anything
It's confusing, this perpetual state of being happy but sad all the time. I often wonder if anyone else lives here. Like a bird in a cage. Generally happy. Life is fine. But what else could I be? Could I be a peacock? A toucan? Oh imagine it. Even a vulture. My limbs seem tired but compliant, like a well-mannered child after a long day at the beach.
I don't think we can consciously change this condition once it's acquired. It's a lifelong portal. And it isn't so bad. It grounds you. But sometimes the urge to act out is overwhelming. To spit in the faces of gates and guards, and what is commonly accepted among the other half of your species. To tear the ceiling off in long, ragged strips. Satisfaction in destruction. Love freely and often, because we live so little. Say "fuck you" in defiance to the people who will never, ever stand to comprehend any of this.
I am extremely saddened by boundaries, and I'm even more saddened by the fact that I have no choice but to live my life within them.
The rules of civilized humanity are frustrating and more limiting than I can handle. Knowing there are consequences to all of my actions is intimidating and infuriating. I want magic every single day. I want to weave special knots between me and the people who I carefully choose to let into my world, and have sparkly, sustainable magic with them. I want my soldiers to understand my affliction and let me be who I have to be without trying to hinder any part of my mind and body.
I guess I am the perfect blueprint of a romantic anarchist.
We are all alone. This is all we have. We need to make fires with each other and pull out all of our guts and lay them out on the shore in random mathematical chaos, and scream out loud until the air is red and the sails disappear into the horizon. They can't hear us out there.
Love and hate and desire and pain and our millions and millions of destructive and beautiful secrets are the things that set fuel to our hearts and that simultaneously bring us together and alienate us from each other.
You can't have happiness without sadness. You can't have pleasure without pain. You would know no better without a sign. So I sit cross-legged between these two walls that never falter. Some days I see that I have inched closer to one or the other, but still they stand strong and seem to hold me up. Without them I would fall down. I know so much about all of the things that I will never, ever know how to describe to another living person.
I just want to meet one person in this world who I truly believe when they look into my face and utter "me too."
*
I don't think we can consciously change this condition once it's acquired. It's a lifelong portal. And it isn't so bad. It grounds you. But sometimes the urge to act out is overwhelming. To spit in the faces of gates and guards, and what is commonly accepted among the other half of your species. To tear the ceiling off in long, ragged strips. Satisfaction in destruction. Love freely and often, because we live so little. Say "fuck you" in defiance to the people who will never, ever stand to comprehend any of this.
I am extremely saddened by boundaries, and I'm even more saddened by the fact that I have no choice but to live my life within them.
The rules of civilized humanity are frustrating and more limiting than I can handle. Knowing there are consequences to all of my actions is intimidating and infuriating. I want magic every single day. I want to weave special knots between me and the people who I carefully choose to let into my world, and have sparkly, sustainable magic with them. I want my soldiers to understand my affliction and let me be who I have to be without trying to hinder any part of my mind and body.
I guess I am the perfect blueprint of a romantic anarchist.
We are all alone. This is all we have. We need to make fires with each other and pull out all of our guts and lay them out on the shore in random mathematical chaos, and scream out loud until the air is red and the sails disappear into the horizon. They can't hear us out there.
Love and hate and desire and pain and our millions and millions of destructive and beautiful secrets are the things that set fuel to our hearts and that simultaneously bring us together and alienate us from each other.
You can't have happiness without sadness. You can't have pleasure without pain. You would know no better without a sign. So I sit cross-legged between these two walls that never falter. Some days I see that I have inched closer to one or the other, but still they stand strong and seem to hold me up. Without them I would fall down. I know so much about all of the things that I will never, ever know how to describe to another living person.
I just want to meet one person in this world who I truly believe when they look into my face and utter "me too."
*