flat aurora
The truth about myself is now valid disgust, it is the answer about the shape of my madness, it is also an inherited world view collapsing in of itself into caricature.
As people lend themselves to a function of others I can’t help but feel that my job is to observe rather than participate and I see rosebuds awaiting their snap into blossom.
It never hit me until now that other people allowing me to show compassion for them is giving me the gift of a welcome chance at redemption.
We need the opportunity to be allowed to do better.
I often know barely enough to get swallowed whole by the situations complexity and am also made mute.
As such my self loathing continues until it hits a barrier often of practicality and that’s when it needs to end. Work at self loathing then just work.
It’s just one of those days when I made the mistake of waking up and have to stand myself for what seems is a long time.
soft lark