Mirrors

Have you ever really looked at the buoyant plink of the rain in puddles? Like pebbles diving into a pond? I sat and watched seagulls diving into the lake looking for fish. It’s just an interesting kind of focus to see them pull themselves up high, hover, and then let go so that they fall a bit as they tuck their head underneath and down like a bullet. Did they catch anything? Was it just a thing they did regardless?

I’m neither free nor imprisoned. Either suggests a construct. Or an instinct. Like the birds who dive. Do they dive because everyone else is diving? Would they even do that? Do animals even know what it is to do something for the reason that everyone does it?

Keeping control...is that why we constantly move? To control our environment? Does it let us feel less out of control or more in victim mode? The world is big; we want to be able to grasp it all. But that’s madness. But if not to grasp, then what? You cannot NOT grasp. The whole point of our existence and our sentience is to inhale and grasp. So why is the world trying to shut us up all the time?

I have the body of a female. But I am not just that. We are not all just one thing. We are multiple things, and we have ideas that change with every context, and we are all worthy of every thought and position that we have just then at that moment. So why are we held to some higher standard?

You think you’re unique and precious, and no one could understand the weird tapestry array of your interior life, tragically futile decisions, and misguided striving. But then, you read a shit ton, watch a shit ton, and live a shit ton, and you realize you don’t have to validate your uniqueness anymore by looking for its existence in others.

And that’s when the story dies. That’s when all stories die.

They are just stories. That’s all.