Who would’ve I have been? I imagine having warm milk with my father in the morning. I imagine the art work that I’ve scribbled framed up on the wall, mama big proud of me at only yea tall. I imagine building memories with my brother and sisters as I gain consciousness of the world without and within. I imagine the multi-verses where my childhood allowed me to be a kid, not as a child forced into adulting. Who would’ve I have been had I handpicked the events of my upbringing? Perhaps these thoughts wouldn’t have made it on my mind at all—perhaps, my mind wouldn’t be as sophisticated like so. That wouldn’t have been much fun, I don’t think, so, never mind, no—I’ll take me as I am: broken and healing.
1 IN 14,000,605.
How often have you imagined the whole world listening in to your story? Not through fame, spotlight, or by choice—through paranoia. Living in a mansion in my head, I imagine rooms bullet pointing every whispers I’ve made from young to now; screenplays revisiting choices I shouldn’t have; based-on-true-story reenactments altered to picture a what-could’ve-been reality. “Be in the present,” they say, but how can I, when the past and the future are spontaneously unfolding. Eager to get out, disciplined enough to play the game. Living in a mansion in my head, I still choose the one that I have in fourteen-million six-hundred and five. My paranoia is an academy filled with lessons keeping me grounded in what I’ve survived. I’m proud that I’m stronger than the character I imagine the rooms imagine me to be—through reflection, I am.
“REVEAL OF THE LIMIT TO OUR KNOWLEDGE.”
The controversies of life. We grow, yet those we’ve started with claw us to bring us down. We grow, yet in attempt to ripple growth, we get shut down. We grow, and we realize all we can control is our own—happy to be the sample and get mocked around. Where I am, it took a lot of beating down. I’m in a bubble, but there’s 8 billion of us, have come looking around. I lied…there must be more. Though what matters is what’s happening in the misery. It’ll take a while for you to get to the point of let’s get the fuck outta here, but soon you’ll see. It’s a state of inventory. Which ones are you going to let be? You’ll find the answers in the depths of the Bermuda sea. On the same plain, but of different mentalities. In essence, of different chapters and realities. It’s joyous when you get to meet another, but that’s a rarity. It’s a true connection between progressive universities. A lot of us have accepted to play this game without resisting. Some of us: naturally instilled chaos in our DNA, so being tame isn’t even for considering. They’ve made algorithms for predicting. We’re a bunch of anomalies, and our presence is a reveal to the limit of their collective knowing. Although, as you attempt with machine learning, our minds are constantly evolving—as it always should have been. Come find me; learn along the way, so we can at least meet in the halfway. Along the way, I send you good hopes so you, too, become more in-tune to your truth. Be a controversy of life—we might as well be the ants in the food pantry sniffing around for a delight. Live in peace while you can. Don’t take it for granted—do not dim your light.
125-126.
Each day, we’re reminded of the gifts that come with life. Consciousness, curiosity, creativity—it really all is temporary. It’s overwhelming in trying to comprehend the potential significance of our action’s impacts to history. Revolutionary or redundancy—which will it be? The motivation to keep creating, immortalizing our thoughts for an attempt to say “I was here.” The weight of my thoughts—I do hope it becomes an aid to lighten your load; provide answers to what’s got you breaking. I have plenty to give—energy that roots to what seems to be from the first sprouting, sentiments from consciousness that had previously failed to be voiced and be seen. I’m overflowing with passion and joy—You and Of-Another-Space-And-Time, are your senses tingling from my beam? A sacrificial avatar that homes hymn. Has my pain made you feel normal and sane? You are not alone—you’re aligned to the truth more than you know. It’s difficult, I know, although it gets easier the more you outgrow. Billions of us have come and go, and finger’s crossed, more, despite the heat of the sun coming in. Just keep feeling; half-cup-full decisions to purify your soul. With the perfect balance, you’ll come back home—celebrated, colourful, captain of your own.
LEFT TO DROWN; LEARNED TO BREATHE UNDERWATER.
Well here we are, on the opposite side. To some, the new beginning, to others, the beginning of the end. This divide, I must admit, is unfortunate. We could’ve all been part of this leap, though in true nature, in true balance, this is just how it goes. The sun still shines, the wind still blows, people still clock in, and there are those who’ve been left to rot that now glow. Music is still euphoric, to wake up is still a blessing, the dreams that we thought were forgotten have come around again to say their new hello’s. New connections strengthen as new neurons find new homes—it’s blissful, and I wouldn’t want anything else but this feeling of the unknown. Even if this season is where everything falls, it’s a harvest of what we’ve grown. Perhaps, we were all where we were meant to be, and the lessons that had us breaking were meant to help us find new perspectives to see. Had to make a collage out of that chaos, now I’ve made me a masterpiece—that piece is the life that I call, “All The Faults I’ve Own—The Old We Is Deceased.”