Atlas of the heart of a fool #1 Being okay is the hardest thing - TopicsExpress



          

Atlas of the heart of a fool #1 Being okay is the hardest thing we do because being okay is expected, if we’re not okay, that’s not okay, what can we do to be okay? We can scribble illegible words on a canvas for my painters masquerading as notebook paper, and hope to sell the burn of stinging emotions for some paper, but the funny thing about that thought? Is that American money isn’t paper, it’s 75% cotton and 25% linen fibers. So even the money you’d earn from your misery, isn’t anything you can write on. When you realize your money isn’t made to heal. Even if it does talk, but it never says enough, does it? But that’s okay… Being okay is the hardest thing we do because sticks and stones do break bones, but you can hide the scars with a jacket or longer sweatshirt. Or put on pants as opposed to athletic shorts. Words kill, words heal, and words are so much more, and you can’t hide the scars that riddle your face, the way your brows furrow when you feel belittled, or the way the corner of your mouth twitches down in that quirky little way when you’re anxious. Or that you bite your fingernails when you’re anxious too. Anxious too. Anxious too. You’re way too anxious too. But that’s okay… Because you can’t convey “okay” with a gesture, thumbs up doesn’t cut it and it’s easy to lie with “okay.” But these letters that make up ‘okay’ and that make up language can’t hide the fact that you’re really not okay. Because none of us are ever really okay. It’s a fleeting moment because there’s always something, like a pendulum swinging one way then back another, the subtle collision a metaphor for life always hitting us back, and the only time life stops hitting us is when those hands stop transitions, like when a clock finally dies. But that’s okay… a dead clock is right twice a day anyways. Being okay is hard, okay?! Because being okay means things are stagnant and things aren’t changing and things aren’t moving. We’re not improving, we’re not feeling, we’re not doing. And that’s not okay. So, how can there ever be okay, when okay is comfortable? When are we ever comfortable for more than fleeting moments? We always want something, need something. Eat something, drink something, do something, write something, feel something, be something. But that’s okay… I need something, I need to drink something. I need a hug or something. Arms wrapping around my waist or something. Because love is okay. It’s more than okay though, y’know? Do you understand what i’m saying? Nothing you do is okay, it’s more. I strive for balance but tonight, I feel like shit, but tomorrow i’ll be better? And yesterday’s yesterday, I was well, I felt like a queen (But what’s a queen without a crown?). Till we got to last night and I felt like… like…. a microscopic minutiae of a lone iota floating in the air of a vast amphora. But i’m not stuck in a vase or urn. Because I live on the edge of Earth. And gravity entraps me to its sphere. I honestly can’t remember the last time I was okay. But that’s okay….
Posted on: Tue, 06 Jan 2015 00:48:24 +0000

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