Moldy Cache

anger

I approach every day the way I approach a bowl of Lucky Charms: Eat a few spoonfuls and then throw the rest on the floor when you remember it’s sugar coated garbage.

No no… I’m not quite that bitter yet. Let me start over.

I haven’t felt as open as I used to be. Not as willing to let others write in my metaphorical book, if you will.  Sometimes you’re just too broken to feel open minded. I won’t apologize for that.

It’s so easy to become bitter when every item, every song has a long red Crime Noir thread tied to old pains. It’s so easy to become paralyzed, trapped in the web.

But It’s just thread, a series of twisted, inaccurate, convoluted ghosts; and I am God. At least insomuch as this is my mind, and my life.

I just have to stand up and remember that the red strings don’t hold my hand back when I draw. They don’t hold my feet back when I’m pushing my skateboard. They don’t block the wind when I run. What strength do they have that I don’t give them, after all.

I’ve realized that I could spend a lifetime running around trying to cut these strings, trying to run from the hurt.

But I can’t, any more that I can stem the tides.

So I won’t.

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4 thoughts on “Moldy Cache

  1. The night owl crows at noon. Go forth and find a coconut. It shall help you seek the Demon’s Axe. The lowly worm is eaten by rainbows.

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