(a piece from high school (I’ve been reorganizing))
I am simply at my worst these days.
Wild and unpredictable emotions rush on me - it's a place where the layer of control and composure are very thin.
This school year has been an endless working, always desperate, collection of days.
Each passing week seemed to unmask some flaw in me.. Like peeling a rotten onion.
Emotionally, spiritually, I’m drubbed—I droop like a hanged man.
It's not the work—I survive (piano) competitions and academic battles as if by some brand of magic..
No, it's more.
I have lost my goal. Like biblical engineers raising the tower of Babel on the plain of Sennaar, I am struck by a lack of focus. My direction, my original plans, seem shallow—I stand purposefully gelded.
It's worse because I'm somehow so much less who I want to be.
Like an asymptotic curve I constantly miss my ideal. I am hunted, internally, by my own inner voice, that ruthless, pittyless, seeker of perfection.. it lurks like the prowling wolf, stalk bent walk.. sifting my every thought, my every action for flaws.. until like the wing weary hunted pray I could almost welcome the killers warmth for sweet silence
In a mood somewhere between cowardly and courageous I finally approached my mom..
In a speech from the scaffold, I told her of my black, tight, treacherous spiral.. of my doubts about everything.
I expected the worst.. a disappointment, in less than cryptic, ciphered messages, a slow sharpening of her claws on me for endless shortcomings..
Instead, I got miracles..
as if rigid constellations had shifted.. an atmosphere of freedom earned.. and at least for that moment, the mom who used to sing me awake in the mornings as a girl.. and a delicious summer of rest.
.
.
A song for this:
Everyday Is A Winding Road by Sheryl Crow
Cruel To Be Kind by Letters to Cleo
.
Oh, and a Christmas playlist because—it’s December!:
https://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_02.mp3
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 12/05/24:
drub = soundly defeated
