Concerning Change

It’s a war between the vanities. The concepts seem to mesh together and my moments of indecision are moments of torture. I never thought that shrugging resolution could be the worst feeling, the worst burden in this purgatory. And in this state of complete blindness of thought I find my own flaws. Perhaps they were hidden in this from creation, or perhaps I made my box of clay so that no insight from the outside could harm my perfect little picture of a plan. It’s the fight against my mantra that drains me. I say I do not know, that I cannot know, that it is pointless to search because what I don’t know cannot become known. The taste of this sickens my mouth albeit the incessant replay. My tires spin. And all I see is the head of the swine, the fear in my own mind that paralyzes me. I am apathetic and pathetic and synthetic.

Fact: I demand too much. I demand too much of God, my counselors, and, most significantly, I demand too much of myself. But, it all seems valid in my head. I lead myself slowly into a slimy, blaming frenzy till the mud has all been thrown and I am stuck in this muck I formed. That’s where I stand now. Skin-deep in yikes.
So I opt for escapism, the brilliant method of the common man. It’s so convenient to compartmentalize. At least, that’s what they say. I seem to be stuck in having that one issue that is predominate in my mind always at the forefront of my tear ducts. I am a typical girl with typical issues and typical desires and yet I liked to think I was ahead, that I had my life figured out, that I could make decisions based on some sort of superior insight I had unto the order of the world. Instead I play tug-of-war with the hashing circle of intellect. And it gets me into the muck again. I end up in a pile on the floor with the frustrated leaning over me and my own soul so hateful towards myself that I want to quit all of it and get married or die or have some closure on this side of life.

I am inert. I plan to be so vibrant and purposeful, but I end up in a static state of mind and body, soul and character. I live in a world pulsating with youth and life and love and all I see are the shadows my frame casts ahead of me. I believe I am moody. But only my family can see it. I try to confess elements of myself that contrast to a vivacious skin and I get the encouragement of the crowd, the love and support of those that admire me. But, when I am alone, or with those whose opinion have so much weight in my heart, I drop what now seems to be garish and immature in favor of listless hesitancy and fear. Interceding between this is my own self loathing. I am an undetected palsy when it comes to choices. Yet they surround me. And I feel like I cannot leave them alone. Un-choiced is not a state of existence but a series of incompetent attitudes and frown lines on a young brow.

I need to choose. I know this. Yet even this treatise goes in a circle. I recognize the war, the faults, the failed diversion, and the need for me to end these lies. Yet I cannot. At least that is what I display. That, in itself, unveils another fault. Oh for the peace of a broken mind and an empty cup.

What is it that haunts me? This question is its own book, the once and future war. I agree with the truths expressed by the sly to protect myself and to hide my ultimate cowardice. I don’t want to earn my living with a life that is lost. I do not want to swallow the culture bait but my appetite tempts me.

I cannot lie to the human race by walking even a mile in a false sense of duty or pride or sympathy. In the end, I desire oblivion but cannot have it.

Look past the present and seek the love that leads the blind.