We find ourselves divorced from logic, roaming the uninhabitable dead space of our indecision. Immersed in such discrepancies of thought and deed, the past forces itself upon the future, and the cycle continues, uninterrupted, plagiarising our history as though through this reenactment, we can free ourselves of the burden of who we were; grow into who we long to be.
Such ideas constitute a flagrant disregard for the simple facts of reality, molding us into faithful drones for the fallacy of our erstwhile intuitions, goading us ever deeper into facets of our delusion heretofore unplumbed.
And through it all we subconsciously shy away from any intermediary force which could prompt the abatement of our self-defeatism, free us from the shackles of remembrance, guide us to the pinnacle of our illumination.
We go blindly about our routine, reaping what we've sown, yet continuing to sow the same things endlessly, for that is what we know, and any diversion from our crepuscular comfort zones is a thing greatly to be feared. Why this unmitigated masquerade of acceptance in the face of fear? Are we so morbid as to endorse our suffering as warranted for the inexplicable concept that "everything happens for a reason", and as such our pain justifies itself through the simple fact of its existence?!
Ah, world. I fear we've a long way to go yet.
But there is still time. Wounds like these don't heal over night...
Love,
~Codaniel~
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