Resurrection-ish. ish. Because i do not know if this is really resurrection. If i've learned anything in the two years and two months since i've posted on here, it is that nothing can be resurrected. This is by no means hopelessness, but plain and simple growing up and snapping out of whatever one was previously snapped in.
The truth is, I am scared to start writing again. More specifically, I am scared to start posting here. But here goes it.
I am going to have my moment and be wise and all-knowing. Let's talk about clean slates and rebirth and new beginnings and all that.
Clean slates are quite expensive. And rare. But also very high in demand. We've all traveled the road less traveled, only to figure out why it was less traveled. But seriously, who wouldn't want a shot at a clean slate? A chance to do everything over; with the option of knowing what needs to be done and a shot at doing it the right way. An option of knowing yourself, your life with all its surroundings and shaping it the way you think is best. An opportunity, regardless of its cost, to stop, realize everything you've ever wanted, and start over with new, better thought out, goals, means, and ambitions. As you read this, if you read this, you start applying my silly sentences to your life I hope. I've applied them to mine. And i am ready to sell back my very expensive clean slate at a loss. Fuck it, I'm ready to pay someone to buy my clean slate.
I do not want it. Not because I want what i had before the slate was clean, i know i can't have that. But i have no idea what i want. So the clean slate is meaningless to me, it is a burden. It is an impossibility of choices i thought i wanted but now, within reach, i despise. Okay, not despise. But choices i do not want. It is like opening your full fridge and not wanting anything out of it. Even though you might love the leftovers, had been craving the toast and cheese, never say no to cake, or staring at a fun batch of strawberry jello, you close that fridge back up and go back to your unlit room.
This isn't a brat syndrome. Definitely not. It is closer to chit-chat. Closer to talking to the mirror hoping it will give you a different reply than the one coming out of the mouth of your own reflection. It is a realization that you have the option of having the leftovers, the jello, or traveling to Bali for all that matters. But it doesn't matter. None of it does. So take back my clean slate. I do not want it. At least not right now. Okay keep it here. But i do not promise to use it, at least not right now.
The truth is, I am scared to start writing again. More specifically, I am scared to start posting here. But here goes it.
I am going to have my moment and be wise and all-knowing. Let's talk about clean slates and rebirth and new beginnings and all that.
Clean slates are quite expensive. And rare. But also very high in demand. We've all traveled the road less traveled, only to figure out why it was less traveled. But seriously, who wouldn't want a shot at a clean slate? A chance to do everything over; with the option of knowing what needs to be done and a shot at doing it the right way. An option of knowing yourself, your life with all its surroundings and shaping it the way you think is best. An opportunity, regardless of its cost, to stop, realize everything you've ever wanted, and start over with new, better thought out, goals, means, and ambitions. As you read this, if you read this, you start applying my silly sentences to your life I hope. I've applied them to mine. And i am ready to sell back my very expensive clean slate at a loss. Fuck it, I'm ready to pay someone to buy my clean slate.
I do not want it. Not because I want what i had before the slate was clean, i know i can't have that. But i have no idea what i want. So the clean slate is meaningless to me, it is a burden. It is an impossibility of choices i thought i wanted but now, within reach, i despise. Okay, not despise. But choices i do not want. It is like opening your full fridge and not wanting anything out of it. Even though you might love the leftovers, had been craving the toast and cheese, never say no to cake, or staring at a fun batch of strawberry jello, you close that fridge back up and go back to your unlit room.
This isn't a brat syndrome. Definitely not. It is closer to chit-chat. Closer to talking to the mirror hoping it will give you a different reply than the one coming out of the mouth of your own reflection. It is a realization that you have the option of having the leftovers, the jello, or traveling to Bali for all that matters. But it doesn't matter. None of it does. So take back my clean slate. I do not want it. At least not right now. Okay keep it here. But i do not promise to use it, at least not right now.
No comments:
Post a Comment