Surrender

I know the only way out is truth.
I know it’s the only resolution to the anxiety.
This one feels different.
The emotion of confusion, uncertainty, conflictual misguidance and avoidance of the discomfort that comes with existential battles and hopelessness.

This world feels so fucked.

Throwing up a double bird to it all and everyone in it. Shit even to myself.
Fuck it.
Fuck all of it.
It’s time for surrender.
Again.

Cycles, patterns, reflections, grief, loss, confusion, reparations, anger, fuck its.

I see good change all the time and it still doesn’t feel like enough.
I am TIRED.
Tired of trying so hard.
Of being a good person.
Of trying to be a good person.

Sometimes I just want to be a bitch.
Full-blown, no fucks given, burn the world down and everything in it destructive energy.
I feel tempted to allow it to consume me.
I know what comes in the aftermath though, the come down from the imperial high.

Shit.
Shit is what comes with it.

Feeling regretful and sick all at the same time in the foggy cloud of sober misperceptions.
But I want an escape from it all.
I want a break.
I don’t want to be good but I don’t want to be bad either.
I don’t want to know but I don’t want to be in the dark either.

I just want it to stop.

The incessant energy of thought and emotion.
I want to fix it.
All of it.
And I can’t.
So I surrender.

Fuck it.
Fuck. All of it.

These thoughts, these feelings are real and it drives me crazy.
Regardless of being better, of it being more manageable, of the volume being quieter it is…
STILL THERE.
I have worked so hard to get here and I am still not satisfied.
I am still disappointed.
Scared.
Uncertain.
Questioning.
I am still the stranger standing on the shore wondering what’s the point of it all?

Here is my truth.
I need to find it.
Always searching, finding, resolving, and repeating.
It’s exhausting.

This world is exhausting!

Does anyone else just wish that the music would stop?
That the noise would end?
That the silence will set in so you can hear the crickets? The fire crackle? The wind?

Shhhhh.
I am listening.
Not to you anymore but to everything else.
I am listening to silence.
To the stars.
To the trees.
To the water.
To the wind.

It’s beautiful.
It’s wounded.
It’s grieving.

She.
Is grieving.
And I am grieving with her.