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There’s something I’ve been meaning
to do. My pragmatism has spun out of control to the point where I do
not give a second thought to the possibility of dreams coming true.
Many wonderful experiences and longed-for achievements could be around
the corner, yet I will never experience these delights. I will not
see them for I am buried underneath a mountain of disappointment and
disillusion.
It surprises me, this willingness to
wallow in darkness. It’s like opening the fridge and finding the
tasty leftovers you were certain would last a couple more days, turn
mouldy before your eyes. The anticipation of pleasure turns into an
ashy aftertaste pervading your mouth.
My ability to lurk in the shadows of my
own malaise is outstanding. However, as much as I love the dark, I
don’t need to live there.
I wish I could suspend my disbelief,
shine a light into the turgid twilight that is my current state of
mind. I need to find faith and rediscover hope. I want to dress my
disenchantment in a little black dress and killer high heels, send it
out for a night on the town, sexy as a siren and ready to party hard.
I yearn to pull back the dark curtain of today and gaze into a
transparent tomorrow.
My deepest desire is to be free of
expectation, to receive gladly all that comes to me, and to accept
fully who I am and where I am in this existence. But in doing so I
stand on the precipice of surrendering it all, ready to give up,
disengaging from life, becoming a mere spectator in my own story.
I mean to find the balance.
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