We may all be masterpieces. we may all be pieces that contribute to some ultimate reality … But the feeling that I am the missing part is real. The feeling that I was never quite finished on the production line. I fell off at some point, and now life’s chaos is sure to take me. I was never whole from the start, and now i stumble around with fresh wounds hoping to find refuge.
I do feel broken you know.
I do sometimes feel ashamed to be present.
I do wish it was not so.
Letting go is vital. And it’s a survival tool. But letting go, like everything else there is, is temporary. Is not some final release that showers one in peace and equanimity. Its temporary, and is fucking hard work. Worthy work, but it’s never easy. And it always seems to mean letting go of some good with the bad. Forgoing a friend to let go of the enemy. Often they’re one in the same.
I’m not sure what stage this is or even what madness I am entertaining when i wonder …. How does knowing a truth ease the truth? How does recognizing a meaningless existence cool the sting of shame and the ache of hardship? How does knowing one is limitless free us from limitation?
I am broken, you know.
I do sometimes not want to be present.
But I can’t wish that it wasn’t so – that, that is what will take me.