Artwork credit: @astroaurts
I’m a glitch in the matrixes. A cold jolt to warm spines and the needle to sturdily constructed bubbles. Despite not always being seemingly all there on the outside, I’m highly aware on the inside, a hundred percent. For someone whose heart pours out into every detailed crevice of human existence, I operate from my brain, much often to my surprise. I dissociate from the many things I strongly want due to pushes from my excessively practical brain and why? I know fondly, everything that will ever exist will eventually end or blend into something else. For our sake, we befriend change. Yet, we still find ourselves feverishly holding on. We feed significance to things that don’t need to matter as much as we want them to and are desperate for meaning. We hold on. I hold on. To clothes, to pictures, to people, to stories, to places, to smells and familiar aches. I hold on so childishly and it’s mock worthy. I have explanations behind my peculiar behaviours though. For example, lying lifeless on cold floors helps with my body’s hot flashes and I lie there thinking – this. This is my life in this moment, with my skin as the wall between the hot and cold. When nothing has a hold over your heart, everything has a hold over your heart. You no longer pour your energy into a concentrated something. Instead it flows and flowers into spaces around you and you’re your favourite you of all the you’s you’ve been before and I’ve been feeling that lately. I take one look in the mirror and I think – ‘Hmm. Nice. I like you a lot. A lot more than I thought I did and how any one else ever likes you or doesn’t shall not overpower how much I like you now and that’s good because I have to carry you. I have to carry you and bathe you and feed you and love you. I have to water you, I have to give to you and give from you. I have to stand up for you, fight for you and do right by you. I have to forgive you and learn from your mistakes and carry your stupidity and see your divine in the depths of your utter ignorance, anger or impulsiveness. I have to do all this and more and it shall be my honour.’ So I will lie on cold floors again and again. I will flinch in weird ways and close all the curtains. I will be as awkward as humanly possible and as forward about the things I want and the way I feel. I will wear my eccentric self with all the glitter I want if I feel like it or wear the same old faded raggedy shirt at home again and again, day after day. I am my favourite kind of weird and no trend or opinion can take that away from me. I am mine; and with our unmatched beautiful belongingness to ourselves, we are ours.
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(previously shared on my blog trinketsofexistence.wordpress.com)