Deep runs and sharp rocks

Am I being pushed under or sucked down by the current? I can’t tell if it’s the weight of these thoughts that won’t ever, ever end or if it’s the pull of the lingering dissatisfaction. Am I being torn by the abrasions of the stones at the bottom? Maybe it’s the endless flagellation of a broken mind tearing me apart from within.

This isn’t who I wanted to be. This isn’t the life I’d planned or seen in my oh-so-clear visions of the future. I’m not who I intended to be.

Each step and struggling, flailing swipe at self-improvement costs so much effort and leaves so many fresh wounds. What am I doing wrong? Is it wrong? Is it me? Lawrence claims to have never seen a wild thing sorry for itself and I don’t know if that’s wisdom and insight or the mindless platitudes of a grandiose fuck who never spent much time in the wild.

I’ve seen plenty of wild things sorry for themselves, whimpering in pain, staring in fright and lashing out at the hand that would help them. Nature is more complex than the fraudulent insights of poets trying to sound profound and/or get laid. Fuck knows that poets need to use all the tricks at their disposal to get laid, and I’m the last one to begrudge them that deceitful conceit.

So what am I? Too many thoughts lacking cohesive direction and too much time spent pondering things that don’t matter when moving is what matters most.

Don’t freeze, don’t stand still, don’t stop. Never stop moving. Fuck the thoughts of what you’re moving towards, fuck the thoughts of what you’re moving from. Forget about lines and time being flat circles and keep fucking moving because the wild thing inside you is yearning to be set free. Let slip the leash, give up the bit and fucking run. Choose a direction and move until another direction takes your interest.

Shrug free the cuts and bruises, embrace the scars and hairline fractures. This is a life in motion, in the process of being lived with the full-throated aggression of a predator whose only goal is one more breath, one more step, one more lunge, one more leap, one more, one more, one more. Suck deep the air and howl your defiance in the mirror.

But always, above all else, move.

One Response to “Deep runs and sharp rocks”

  1. Personally, I believe the meaning of life lies here:

    We are terrible at helping ourselves, but amazingly well equipped to help others…

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