Strings and Choices

The strings are pulling me away from everything. I can’t see where it leads me. It’s hard to get to a place of clarity when you question everything around you.

I don’t want to accuse things of anything merely based on how I see it. Going after severe anxiety and depression alters the way a person sees things. Things change and some don’t. Is it that bad not to put my name on the list?

Here’s a cycle of a killer loop — that thing that traps every day;

• A ritual. A series of questions packed in a what-am-I-doing-with-my-life set?

• Music and lyrics. Playing thoughts of this will not end, I don’t want it to end, end it now — I want to disappear but no — no. I still want to live. I’m still alive.|

• A calm breeze. Wanting here, now. Not back there or somewhere far from me.

• A matchstick and a spark. Warm thoughts of people and things that remain after the storm. What’s left of me? Then and again, nothing that is mine can ever be taken away. It is really nothing — pain and freedom come with a single slap. To gather thoughts and plant good seeds wherever I go and whenever I can. What are good seeds?

• Fire and water. Build and destroy; Life and death. Both are inside me. A great thing is to be passionate about something. To create for what we deem matters and be destroyed by it. Things go both ways. So most of the time, people reach for chains. Stay here, just here. The world knows better. As if I don't belong in it.

2025. I don’t want to live in chains anymore. Break it —

Who cares if people don’t care?

Who cares if people don’t love like you do?

Who cares if no one sees you worthy?

Who cares if others see you as useless?

Who cares if you are not half as good as others?

Who cares if you want weird things?

Who cares if you want to believe in good things?

Who cares if you cling to God and hope?

Who cares if nothing we ever do matters?

Who cares if you love the hell out of the world?

I still do. Somewhere in there, I know you still do — too.

Step out, kill the loop that is trying to kill what’s inside you.

Choose — shake or still? We’ll all end up dead in here anyway.

What’s it going to be kid?