irsinkast

I was looking out the window this morning from the kitchen at the office. Staring into the little open space between buildings. Smack in the middle of the city. And I could only think: this is not the life I want. Far from it. This is a substandard compromise. This is too far away from the place I wanted to end up. And worse it doesn’t seem like I’m going to that place anytime soon or ever. I refuse to believe that it’s the way of life. That the only way to live a balanced life, is to live a prescribed life. I don’t want the fears that were so carefully instilled or surgically inserted by the ruling mechanisms to actually govern my choices. Society is nothing without the excess of individuality. Without divergence. Don’t let anyone make you feel less about yourself only because you stray from the path of average. This was only outlined to serve a purpose that is not yours. While you are working your h

Everything breathes. So do our elations and desolations. They recycle the energy and find ways of seeping back into our life. Without foreboding, they reappear. And so does the range of emotions that accompanied them before. Like they were imprinted on your soul forever. As if nothing ever happened in between. But something did. The coarse edges of time shaved off some of your resistance. Like a glacier inching forward. Sanding you down to a smooth surface. Dying in its course. Carving and melting away. Leaving you dry and digested. Change is the fabric of time on its path to deconstruction. We are the remains of the process. The relics of refinement of a structure in the making. We are the deposits of adaptation. The items that couldn’t make the cut. This makes us dead set against transformation. Our reluctance has become a second nature. That is why we feel inadequate. We were never meant to be anything more than leftovers.