And then, smile. (You’re good, how’re you?)

You’ve noted you’re in a hole of grave proportions, but the depth makes it comfortable to stay asleep.
If you can do it in your sleep, then why wake up?
You will write and write and not produce. You will speak and speak and not act out.
Your dreams are a matter of living with yourself and maybe you’re not ready to do that. And you see others around you that are also not ready. And will maybe never be ready.
And maybe that’s their legacy. Maybe running from themselves is their predetermined fatal flaw.
Maybe it’s yours.

If your work is cut out for you to change the alignment of your stars, then you know you must start today.
But when tomorrow looks so much better, what then?
When the pill is hard to swallow, how do you stop yourself from gouging the entire bottle?
You wonder how much of ourselves we are supposed to live with,
and,
in the purest, simplest of forms, how much suffering must exist to keep balance?
How loud are the inner voices of others?
How much of their conscience is being ruled by an illumination of false pretense?
And if all went dark, how would that play out?
How would you play out?

You have to wonder the toll that will eventually need to be paid.
You have to know when enough is enough,
even though,
you are surrounded by so many people who will never fathom enough being enough.
Greed and filth clasp hands and whisper to each other sweet justifications.
They justify one more step.
One more stumble.
One step forward, two steps back.

And then, smile. (You’re good, how’re you?)

 

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