Why cant I stop this overwhelming feeling of heartbreak and rigidity? My emotions have become immobile- unable to shift and change. Instead, it’s off the charts in angst and frozen in the tundra of a once blooming spring. Dreams and whimsy, all flushed into a sinkhole of reality. A blackhole of burden, pressure, and a repeating pattern of hopes time-warped into non-existence.
This is why I hate being tickled with the happy ideas of life’s average milestones. Because average is exactly what I’m not. Average is aristocracy among all those around me dwelling in posh politics and wealth. I’m living in my own world, within the world of my immediate community, within the world of my city, within a grim world of war, poverty, and distrust. Of course the overall world has it’s little honeycomb pockets of honey with honest-working people buzzing in their lives for the greater good.
But coming back to me, my purpose, and my stability, I’ve no choice but to rest my case of happiness into studying, labor, and discipline. I’m a soldier in my own war, and there is no giving in.
So here I am, chiseling my goals out of the glaciers of my gloom.