My brain is full today. My heart aches today. I’m carrying the weight and burden of the hurt currently being experienced by so many people that I love truly and I need to place it somewhere.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been inspired to write anything; I mean, I don’t even know if inspired is the right term, because it’s not a sparkling desire to share anything with anyone in particular.
Right now it’s just a fervent need to get out the things that are floating around in my head late on a Saturday afternoon, to put them in some logical order and give them meaning.
At present, they’re just independent words in multi-coloured san serif fonts bouncing around the chasm that is me.
Someone I’ve known for a long time told me last night that by his estimation, I was 99% neutral good, and the remaining 1% of my character that is chaotic evil was nullified by this. This in itself to me is kinda strange conceptually, but it’s caused me to do some pretty intense thinking since.
But. It’s the 1% that keeps me up at night. It’s the 1% that stops me from believing I’m a good person. It’s the 1% that has me staring into space, agonising about everything.
I realise in writing that, I’m exposing myself as an incredibly and highly-emotional person. I used to think that this was a character flaw, but I realise now that this is what makes me human and is a distinctive part of my ego or self. It’s why I initiate conversation with people when I feel their energy shift. I recognise darkness in others as its so familiar and know that in these times, all we need is the suggestion of a shaft of light to echo through the black. These conversations are usually cumbersome words, spilling over each other and falling into the atmosphere, spoken in stilted phrasing and with nervous hesitation.
So you know – I see you’re broken. We recognise each other. I understand that you are pulling back the curtain, to let me understand how your machinations work. I understand you are vulnerable. I see you. I hear you.
Willingly, I carry your grief like ghosts. I haul them around with me, like they’re chained at my wrists and at my ankles. They follow me from room to room, house to house, haunting every single space I occupy.
These ghosts are the 1%.
They’re hurt, shame, disgust, apathy, remorse.
They’re agony, grief, guilt and resentment.
They’re hate, self-loathing, disregard and torture.
They follow me like shadows settling at dusk.
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