Au revoir. Sayōnara...to being a Metaphor.

Dear Me/You.

Yesterday, I purchased an ordinary avocado, it was beautifully olive-green on the outside. A much anticipated breakfast treat.

Today, I sat down to enjoy the meat of the lovely succulent fruit. Much to my disappointment, it tasted quite blah, kind of like water with a bit of tasteless jelly splattered on my toast, spoiling the entire effect of the meal. How could such a boldly viridescent fruit be so mawkish to my eager and expectant palate.

I sat there in a bit of an introspective mood, for the experience seemed eerily familiar.

Suddenly a lightbulb flashed on in my mind...this was the way my life had felt for the longest time---A metaphor--- the feeling of swimming along in slowly moving water and I was the quondam, erstwhile formless, tasteless, meat-filled jelly spread on eager, disappointed toast.

I love the saying that I am unique...but am I really? I exist in a jungle of like entities---we all look alike...behave alike...love, hate, imbibe, quarrel, embrace, excrete, create, murder, extort, trick, treat and damn to hell one another...I could go on and on.

Heavens, even our thoughts are duplicated daily on every level of existence, whether we are rich or poor, deemed attractive or unattractive. We are carbon copies of the likeness of our creator, whatever we deem it or them to be.

And I realize then that I needed more!

I quit, resign...waving goodbye to the mundane. In more than one language. Spanish: Adiós

French: Au revoir

German: Auf Wiedersehen

Italian: Arrivederci

Mandarin Chinese: 再见 (zàijiàn)

Japanese: さようなら (sayōnara)

Korean: 안녕 (annyeong)

I refuse to be a metaphor for an ordinary life. Yet how do I quit, metaphor or not...I am stuck with this form here in the living world.

The only way short of self-harm is to evolve my mind, my way of thinking, doing and living...and maybe get a makeover. (Smile).

I renamed myself Delilah.

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How does Delilah quit a life which seems like a metaphor, evolving into a being which her mind needs to create and bring to realization. Should there be an abstract story for the woman now repurposed.

First, she must Unmake herself.

Standing at the edge of a mirror---her reflection was fragmented, as if reality itself had grown weary of holding her in place. Delilah had long suspected that she was a myth wrapped in flesh, a mere whisp between timelines, a specter living inside a skewered poetic form.

The sun rose, indifferent, casting light on a woman who no longer belonged to the world that had named her.

Unfurl Delilah...reach within yourself, pull the threads of expectation, loosen the stitches of the identity you once accepted. The quiet prayers, the silent concessions, the echoes of a name that no longer fits...Pluck them out, like the unraveling of an old parchment, until all that remains is your absence---a hollow space waiting to be filled.

Do not mourn the loss. Merely watch as the wind carries away the scraps of what you had been.

There was Silence. The old voices---the ones that called her back, the ones that whispered caution...they faded. Delilah became a blank page, untouched by the hands of fate. She walked the streets, as unseen as a ghost, her form shifting in the eyes of those who had once known her. There was no announcement, no goodbye.

She simply ceased to be the woman they remembered.

On the night of the new moon, Delilah sculpted her form from the bones of possibility. She had not just taken a new name; she became one. She did not step into a new life; she created it. Every movement was deliberate, every breath a choice.

The metaphor was gone. She was flesh, she was thought, she was intent.

Delilah had quit the illusion.

Delilah had become real.

Would she remain? That was her decision alone.

...........

What is it that motivates Delilah's transformation? A profound need for self-authorship. Trapped within metaphors---defined by roles, expectations, narratives she never fully chose.

Her motivations had then become layered:

She longs to escape the prescribed identity that was shaped by the perceptions of others, rather than her own truth.

Old Delilah existed as a reaction to her surroundings, swept along by tides she did not control. Her transformation is a rebellion against inertia, an act of pure will. A quitting of the self as imposed by society.

She rejects being a dream, a vision, a poetic device. She wants to be flesh, thought, intent---someone that can touch the world and alter it rather than be shaped by it.

She Desired Tangibility..

Her transformation is not merely change---it is an act of defiance, an assertion that she exists on her own terms. She does not fade into metaphor. She steps forward, real and undeniable.

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The Edge of the Mirror reflects the fragile boundary between perception and reality, between the identity imposed upon her and the one she is trying to forge.

Unraveling Threads is the act of pulling apart expectations and identities, to mirror the process of breaking free from societal constraints.

As she walks through the streets, silent and unseen, she is shedding her old presence. This silence is not emptiness but liberation.

New Moon Night serves as a perfect backdrop for rebirth. In darkness, she is free from the light that once illuminated her predetermined self. The new moon symbolizes infinite possibility---she can now mold herself into whatever she chooses.

Sculpting Herself from Bones of Possibility marks her transition from mere thought into action. Bones signify strength, the framework of existence. She is no longer an idea; she is constructing her being with intent.

Becoming Flesh, thought and action...the rejection of being a metaphor is her final declaration. She does not wish to remain an abstract concept, a fleeting idea in others’ minds...she steps fully into existence, tangible, undeniable.

Delilah’s story is an exploration of autonomy, shedding illusions, and demanding full presence in reality. It is a metaphor about rejecting metaphor itself...breaking through illusion and claiming full presence in her own life.

The mirror was never real...she was.