Looking at your fingers, your weathered weary hands, the same hands that have worked every single day of your life, you remind yourself that you’re here for a reason. You’ve bled, you’ve climbed the hallowed walls of life, you’ve been one amongst the many to reach this place within your ever present life. You’re special, you’re the same as everyone else, you’re whatever you choose to believe on this very day.
Placing a hand next to your knee, as you feel like you’re crawling through this life, you know that you’re about to bleed a little bit more. Life could be easy, or at least easier, but your mind refuses to relent in its ever present pursuit of inconsequential delights. You smile, you crave, you wash decrepit sordid thoughts through your mind imagining the wealth that the skin can afford. Your wry smile hides no secret of the desire to indulge. You feel, you need, you wishfully grasp at the moments of shallow warmth.
It flickers, the soul, you know this. You don’t care. You tell yourself each and every single day that you’d like to be more, to achieve more, to aspire to a new height but, woefully, you stay still. Why try, why push, why climb, when right here, right now, is all that keeps you tied down. It’s so comfortable, the day to day, the ease and indulgence of it all.
Your other hand touches the floor as your head swings back, looking into the dark sky, eyes closed while feeling the tepid air that surrounds your aura. The warmth surrounds you with its grip, teasing, tempting, caressing your smile to ensure that it never fades. You know that it’s not real, you know that it’s all your imagination enticing you to live the same life as everyone around you. Teasing thoughts, sure, obviously, but it’s ever so easy to be just like… them.
You laugh aloud, the smirk appearing across that face of yours, knowing damn well that you’re happy to be just as you are. You could happily throw yourself into a thousand imaginary settings. You’d embrace such a thing. The mind wanders. The mind plays tricks. It knows you’re the one and that grasp is oh so very tight.
Placing your head against the ground, breathing that bit slower, you start to daydream of times and places that no longer remain. You could indulge, you could, all day, remembering the past within the very present. What would that get you? You know the answer. The same old familiar setting. You could wrap yourself in comfort for the rest of your life, seething, wallowing, caressing your tailored ego into the shape of ecstasy.
It's simple, it’s easy, it’s built within your very soul. We’re supposed to survive, that inherent instinct within all of us, to oppose the bitter taste of negativity. Instead we choose to remain as we are. We’re not perfect, we’re different, we’re not this or maybe that, all psycho pathetic murmurings of a drilled in, learned response and reaction. You’re not perfect. You’re not what you want to be yet, on the other thought, you do little or nothing to change.
Staying safe, hidden, within your own mind, you realise that you could very easily escape. There are no chains, there are no other voices but your own, we allow what we let into our subconscious and inner ear. Instead, maybe for a change, you decide to stand. You decide to stamp your foot in defiance. You no longer wish to take what’s been fed to you, the disgusting vibrancies of life, the ever present whispers of media and murmurings.
Instead, just for a day, you’re going to heal. It’s that simple.