looking

I

man or mammal or god or machine

entities on a dimensional mission to view and to show and to influence

I am an alien

on my home planet

Im looking and looking

I find an image that tells me Im myself. I don’t recognize. I never will. I wake to reality to find the image. To be reminded where I live.

The decision to live is to be human.

And choice is required to rise every day.

We are not like the sun, we dont synchronize like the moon.  We don’t follow paths like the planets.  We don’t collapse, like the stars in far away places that have died planetary years ago that are longer than years or decades or lifetimes.  But we get to see them, like cosmic time doesn’t exist to us, and all we are is relative.

But we must every day.

We must every day, because consistency is human.  The world is not order or replica.  It is not straight and right angled.  There are no cubes in the universe.  Though we explain… by the square and the triangle and the agonal. Perfect circles.

To look in the mirror and find asymmetrical age. Curves we never planned for, and saggy shapes. Ugly. I see ugly every morning.  And I must pretend I am going somewhere every day. As if the perfect circle wasn’t how oblong life is. How deformed my face has become from experience. Telling myself that this is learning and I might be the right teacher for someone.  That it will matter one day.  And that the degradation of my disposition will save some innocence for long enough that the circle might break.  Just long enough for someone to see the severance… and believe.  Believe that they could see that other side and it’s there. It’s there. It’s there so strongly that they wouldn’t need to see it again to know, and to finally know the purpose of the memory and it not be torture like it always is, like it is living in that image that is haunting and haunting and I have to look at it because I am alive and I have to prove it by seeeeing. And the image, how I stare shards at it hoping what holds it will shatter and show me what really holds me.  I am not in the image, but I cannot find without.  I must FIND. I must find… IT

What Im looking for

is a… the reason… to stop thinking

Because rest is a drug

and food is a drug

and love is a drug

Im exhausted from healing

I am despicable so I add more want to my desires and wants to my wants and absorb absorb like there isn’t enough light inside of me.  And make more light makers outside and blot out the night sky so I might feel full of my future.  Vibrance and possibility.  My potential, how I could have been anything. And forgot to just be myself.