Is it merely the word unspoken that strangles me in such a suffocating
manner? Is it that ‘unnatural’ urge that resides deep within that suppresses
me? Or is it my silent cries that no one seems to hear nor see… I suppose any
of these repressions could be to blame. What I don’t understand is that if I understand
this, than by what means is it that I do not follow the path that my heart so
clearly begs of me to follow? Is it by a structuralized society’s wishes that I
try to be good to myself when I do not wish to be?
“To deny our impulses, is to deny the very thing that makes us human”. Well, what is it then that makes me human? It is the cuts, the bruises, the starvation and the
anger? Is it the imagined rape and the hoped for beating? Is it the wine and
the cigar, the weed and eventually, the heroin? It is decay, then, that makes
me human? It would be proper of me to say that I wish it not so, but I do. I
want the pain, I want the anger, and I want the hurt. I want it all to make me
feel alive. Externally I wish to sow greatness, but internally I indeed wish to reap
decay. Am I sick? But by whose terms? Do you deny that you wish not the same
thing for yourselves?
Perhaps, in the human world, the mistake is believing that
there is of two paths that one may take. Be it the righteous path, or the path
of evil. Perhaps, there are more than two, perhaps, seven billion or however
many children walk this Earth; seven billion different paths. Each one unique,
each set with its own rockiness.
If that is the case, than my path shall be through and by my
physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual pain; for my pain defines my beauty.
As does yours. And ask yourself, if you were
to deny your pain, would you truly be
yourself? Or an actor instead?