On treason

Of all the ways we can communicate with each other we choose to do so with apathy and fear. Two adults share several hours a week inside an enclosed space which, having grown accustomed to their breathing patterns, suddenly detects a change. Glances escape and wander, in an effort to obtain pieces of information that seemed irrelevant before. Every word uttered now could potentially have a deeper meaning, one whose actual thought will never be breathed out of their mouths. 

It’s not the utterance that fails to deliver, it’s people who flounder; and we flounder with so glorious a bravado that we lose sight of all that we can actually accomplish. We illuminate ourselves to the point of blindness. I can’t help myself sometimes, I actually speak. The problem, however, lies in the fact that regardless of what I asseverate, both possible versions of the truth of the situation serve to remind me that the other person’s lack of guilelessness stems from either cowardice and fear, or indifference. Honest to God, I don’t know which is worse. 

We live in a constant state of escape. We run past everything and then complain that chances never come our way, luck didn’t knock on the door, shadows of hope never entered our peripheral vision. We go through our routine with our eyes closed, and when by coincidence or mistake we crack our retina shutters just enough to descry an anomaly, we shut them with fury, go about our semblance of a life and scold our lashes for failing to protect us. 

We haven’t even taken the time to think about what we really want, what would make us happy, and take it from there. We refuse to even acknowledge the existence of ‘something else’ out of terror and shame that we have never once dared to work for it. We settle for the little we are given, or the tiny crumbs we accidentally picked up somewhere along the way, and don’t even remember why. 

We’ve all fallen inside self-made traps, fooling ourselves that we did it to protect something, or worse, that we did it out of love. But how could love ever demand a sacrifice of the self?

No, it isn’t love. Please stop calling it that. It is the highest form of treason to oneself: living as though you will get to live again. 

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