the flux of survival

Ever since I turned 18, birthdays have been strange for me. Maybe the impending doom of reaching an age I don’t intend to, or the fact that I’ve sabotaged my life to an irredeemable degree, placing me in an idealistic cryo-chamber that will always keep my body and mind somewhat lagging in terms of quality of life. For me, today is a day of self-reflection, of what I could have done and what I needed to do. A very painful cycle that has only grown more bitter as the years churn by. Part of me wants to sleep the day, to forget that I was ever born. But the child in my soul wants cake and presents and all the goodies that it received as a newborn. I am writing out of necessity today as my time is more crucial to find a meaning to survive. I have never lived with a consistent and healthy backing in my walk on this dense path… maybe the loss of comfort have opened up another part of myself, a shell of a shell. I am anxious. Very anxious. I fear that I’ve lost my sense of self, of good writing, am I still a writer? I ask for no pity. I am merely wanted the confirmation that I am, at the very least, good for something. And maybe that as well provokes that oh so familiar sinking feeling in the depths of my gut. Where did I go, all those months I misplaced the brilliant part of myself that created for creation's sake. Am I an artist, or a charlatan? Am I simply another mentally disturbed mass that believes they are secretly something more, underneath all the grime and layers of dirt I've caked myself in. Why is my work the best when I am wanting to die? 

I feel the need to write out at least some small part of what I have learned from haunting this small alcove of the world. To prove that maybe I am right in being here, I have the right to be a functioning member of a larger body. I do not desire to be correct, or to be intelligent, but to be accepted. I am good enough for love, for food and shelter. That is how I have survived, to mold into the expectation of the audience.  I want to relate! I want to be! I was born today, for what? Who decided that I would be in this body? Was I everything that people wanted? 

• There are two courses in life: you can either evolve, or devolve. There is no such thing as stagnation, because even in a perceived stillness you are slowly degrading yourself or slowly healing. Time moves so rapidly under your feet that by the time you’ve gotten there your efforts would have met you already. You’re already on a path, and you will catch up with what you put into life. Change is inevitable, otherwise a body wouldn’t be alive, it would be trapped.
• Life is about who we speak to. Connections are at the heart of all that is humanity. Our foundations of living are built upon who we know and how we interact with people, and who we are given to interact with. Everything else is superficial and man-made, but we’ve been holding hands since the first dawn. Everything else is meant to emphasize human connection, or dampen it.
• You must love yourself wholly and fully, warts and all. One must embrace being by themselves as being with good company, for loneliness is an inevitable phenomenon. Treat yourself as the precious child, see yourself a the wounded animal, treat your life with compassion and delicacy. There is no point in life which you shouldn’t be kind to yourself. Always be kind to your reflection, for the pessimism of the self leaves you open to the ravaging minds of those who are desperate to please themselves by using the bodies of the —as a staircase.
• Nothing matters, because none of this was supposed to happen. Your very existence was a miracle. You aren’t destined for anything, so life is not bound to a single path. As much as people like to think so. This could be both a liberating part of existence or a distressing notion that the handlebars were never there and now you must move without the comfort of something your mind can firmly grasp onto. Worship yourself, worship whoever and whatever grants the strength for you to not just get up but run.