This is the time of year when the chill seeps into my skin and caresses my soul with icy, lingering fingers, almost as if it’s been waiting all year for this. And so it takes it’s time now, savoring the moment. I can walk outside at night and feel how cold the black of the sky is; drink in this rigid dark ice.
I’m going to make a conscious effort to love other humans, to cease this constant hate towards them… stop my self-pitying. I’ve always considered others to have some value inherent in them, but only a very small value when compared to myself and those I consider friends and family.
As if a conscious awakening occurred only slightly, just enough to be aware of the filth of the world, but not enough to love it regardless. A fracturing of the shell of ignorance, not a hole carved out to actually see something.
I have the intellect to hide behind my words; to distract people from my true self, and to delay the truth by piecing together lies to create a very artful, convincing obscurity.
I don’t believe I can attain the next level of consciousness except by through a convergence of both emotion and thought – a dialectical approach seems the only way.
It appears to me I’ve covered a vast distance, but when I look back, I see no footprints to mark my path. I can only hope the arrow of time is splintering, or else I’m a very light-footed traveler.