On muzzles

There is a hurricane swirling every thought and every emotion I’ve ever had. It has become defining. It has changed my atoms. It has warped me and made me more volatile and inflammable than I’ve ever been. I love and fear it, for it drives me towards a chaotic vacuum that includes everything I’ve ever wondered about. It is oblivious to pain, logic and regret. It breathes through me. It exhales existential fumes and encompasses concepts of ecstasy.

I have three books waiting for me. Three worlds I keep nibbling at occasionally. I open them and delve in, sometimes with an unparalleled immersion, and other times with an unfocused, almost childish, boredom and haste for what’s next. 

The thing I do best is think. It is said that by the time we die we’ve spent years of our life sleeping. By the time I die, I will have spent the rest thinking. I can’t stop. We sometimes use the word “overthinking” jokingly, to describe something in exaggeration so as to make a point. For me it is literal, and oftentimes disturbing. I stretch my mind like an elastic band, but every time it approaches its inevitable breaking point, I find a way to extend it. And so it goes.

It has, by now, encircled all aspects of my existence. It has led me to thoughts, desires, decisions and a relinquishment of dread as I’ve never before experienced, or believed I could. It has also accomplished something else. It has brought with it a companion; one that has taught me to exterminate fears and destroy doubts. He has allowed me to review and re-experience me/myself/I in the absence of all that was always expected of me.

To explore yourself you need to destroy yourself first. Annihilate original notions of all that you are and all that you think you believe. You need to undress slowly, shed layer upon layer of conviction that’s been imbedded in you over the course of your life. With every layer you burn you shed the tears that bore its significance. The lighter you become, the freer you feel, the more simply you breathe, the more frightened you grow. For you had been carrying all this burden for nothing. For all the wrong reasons, in your callow self-ignorance.

I thus began to walk differently; speak more eloquently; taste more bitterly; fuck more dactylically.

I became something else entirely. But I did not change. I evolved. I expanded. For every layer I shed, I added a piece of me I’d left behind in the belief that it was transgressive. It was not. 

I did not change. I emerged. I succumbed to myself. I unfolded what I had muzzled and I heard my voice for the very first time.  

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