There is a loadstone hidden in my belly, way down deep. Muffled under layers of fat and unease, wrapped around tight with false comfort and ridiculous needs.
It burns hot and bright underneath those layers, though. And it pulls, always pulls, magnetic due happy. It jerks me about like a marionette on broken strings, lifting a leg here and an arm there, never in sync. But always, always forward.
I can feel it burning its way up under my breastbone now. I think it was startled into action by the knowledge that this sort of life is actually possible. The kind of life it never believed in. The kind of life that kills you slowly through boredom and ephemeral depth.
It sneaks up on you like hypothermia, this slow death life. It lulls you to sleep in the pillowy snow bank, lying to you about warmth and comfort, convincing you that the effort required to get up and BE just isn't necessary. Look! You can be right here, with this second choice life! It's enough, it's enough. It's almost enough.
And oh, it's so easy. So much easier than pushing your way through the detritus created by not quite right dreams, on to clear space. So much easier to settle down into the undergrowth and live a small life in a small circle, forgetting the tops of the trees you were aiming for when you started this journey.
So, my loadstone felt me starting to settle in, felt me forgetting the heights, and panicked. This hot, heavy burning making its way up inside me, like magma in a lava tube, doesn't give me strength. It shoves me up and away with no thought for whether or not my legs are capable of carrying me, my arms capable of pulling me.
The need for more isn't where my strength comes from. The loadstone pulling me towards happiness isn't what's going to keep me there. I can feel my brains distrust of my bodys strength, its ability to sustain this momentum and bear this load. I can feel my bodys distrust of my brains ability to help us stay happy, once we've found it. It's conviction that we're just going to fuck it up again, sabotage the goodness.
But together, the loadstone, the brain, the body... together, it has infinite potential, and we know it. That's where the strength comes from. The absolute surety that this combination of need, knowledge, and desire is unstoppable. That this fortunate, random happenstance of ME is capable of doing everything, of doing anything.
It burns hot and bright underneath those layers, though. And it pulls, always pulls, magnetic due happy. It jerks me about like a marionette on broken strings, lifting a leg here and an arm there, never in sync. But always, always forward.
I can feel it burning its way up under my breastbone now. I think it was startled into action by the knowledge that this sort of life is actually possible. The kind of life it never believed in. The kind of life that kills you slowly through boredom and ephemeral depth.
It sneaks up on you like hypothermia, this slow death life. It lulls you to sleep in the pillowy snow bank, lying to you about warmth and comfort, convincing you that the effort required to get up and BE just isn't necessary. Look! You can be right here, with this second choice life! It's enough, it's enough. It's almost enough.
And oh, it's so easy. So much easier than pushing your way through the detritus created by not quite right dreams, on to clear space. So much easier to settle down into the undergrowth and live a small life in a small circle, forgetting the tops of the trees you were aiming for when you started this journey.
So, my loadstone felt me starting to settle in, felt me forgetting the heights, and panicked. This hot, heavy burning making its way up inside me, like magma in a lava tube, doesn't give me strength. It shoves me up and away with no thought for whether or not my legs are capable of carrying me, my arms capable of pulling me.
The need for more isn't where my strength comes from. The loadstone pulling me towards happiness isn't what's going to keep me there. I can feel my brains distrust of my bodys strength, its ability to sustain this momentum and bear this load. I can feel my bodys distrust of my brains ability to help us stay happy, once we've found it. It's conviction that we're just going to fuck it up again, sabotage the goodness.
But together, the loadstone, the brain, the body... together, it has infinite potential, and we know it. That's where the strength comes from. The absolute surety that this combination of need, knowledge, and desire is unstoppable. That this fortunate, random happenstance of ME is capable of doing everything, of doing anything.
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