I had a dream once when I was in high school. I was floating over my room & there was a long line of items floating in front of me. At the end of the line at the far side of the room was Death, sitting behind a desk. I reached out, & in the weird, warped law of physics in dreams, I managed to grab the edge of the desk & pulled myself up to it. I stood there, or floated there, rather, & stared at Death, waiting for something to happen, but he just sat staring back at me. Finally, I asked, "Don't I get anything for challenging Death?" "No," he said, gesturing behind me, " because you ignored all the other challenges."
I've made reference to this dream before in my bloggings, when I speak of being judged for failing to take on the challenges in my life, by hiding away in my house. It's something that haunts me. I feel like I am being watched & judged & found wanting. I wonder, is it enough to just not seek death before my time, to accept that I must live this crappy life out to the end, or is more required? Do I actually need to be pushing myself to seek out challenges? What is expected of me? What should I be doing? Could I ever be enough? Do enough?
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Building the Wall
(Originally written Spring 1998)
…And so we build the wall, like a dam desperately built to hold back the flood that threatens to pour out.
Hap hazardously. Requiring endless energy to hold the wall of anger in place, fighting back the sorrow with every breath.
No energy for anything else. Purely survival.
While the water stagnates behind it.
Knowing it won’t hold forever. Why do I try?
Knowing it will burst through some day, a torrential flood of pain & anger, causing such havoc in its wake.
Is it really so much easier this way?
The tiniest crack in the defenses & it begins to trickle,
and then pour.
So, we seal the cracks with our own blood & tissue, thoughts, cares, hopes. Emptying self of self until all there is, is this wall of rage & the terrifying pain behind it, a patchwork mask of indifference, bulging at the seams, draining all else to sustain itself.
…And so we build the wall, like a dam desperately built to hold back the flood that threatens to pour out.
Hap hazardously. Requiring endless energy to hold the wall of anger in place, fighting back the sorrow with every breath.
No energy for anything else. Purely survival.
While the water stagnates behind it.
Knowing it won’t hold forever. Why do I try?
Knowing it will burst through some day, a torrential flood of pain & anger, causing such havoc in its wake.
Is it really so much easier this way?
The tiniest crack in the defenses & it begins to trickle,
and then pour.
So, we seal the cracks with our own blood & tissue, thoughts, cares, hopes. Emptying self of self until all there is, is this wall of rage & the terrifying pain behind it, a patchwork mask of indifference, bulging at the seams, draining all else to sustain itself.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)