There are two things most dangerous: apathy and stagnation. For me? The former leads to the latter. It’s a cycle of violence I’ve always struggled to overcome. It’s like when I’m gourd dancing with my family, and I’m trying to predict by cadence and rhythm the switching of the beat so I can anticipate the appropriate next move–a move which keeps me in sync with my community but ultimately with my choices.
So that’s a blend of artistry and pseudo-intellectualism to say something very simple: I get bored easily. I’ll save the deep psychological reading of this behavior to my haters. They’re likely more in tune with it’s nuances anyway.
There are times in my life where I live in life and throw myself into passions deep and plentiful and I’m so deep in the subconscious I don’t even have to breath. I’ve mutated, growing gills to pick up words and metaphors and I twist them into a story. Story gives me life.
Then there are times in my life where the void has no echo and the sound of my voice carries only inches from my mouth. If I screamed it would carry further, but I don’t scream anyway so that doesn’t matter. When the stagnation grows up my feet and grabs my ankles, through my veins and into my throat, my voice is lost. In desperation I can see apathy moving toward me like dark matter carrying a wave of asteroids ready to crush me. And you say the void has no noise. But it’s loud. Louder than me, which is loud enough, and is the only decibel of importance.
Then by sheer willpower, I lift my head, look at the computer screen, and write.
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