Quiet, my mind is quiet. It hasn't disturbed me much lately. It makes me uneasy. Maybe my dream of a peaceful mind has been fulfilled at the expense of dreams of passion. It is quiet, and simple. It is just filled with quotidianity, with mundane tasks and never ending routines. I am not sure this dream was what I was expecting. It has definitely not lived up to its hype. I am disappointed.
Disappointment is not an emotion I like. Some people are partial to it, but I have an unbearable dislike to it. It is the product of unnecessary respect and misplaced trust, and those two I treasure most. I would like to go back to that place before disappointment, when the dreams were still possible and my world wasn't grey. Where the respect I gave was reciprocated and my loyalty justified. A place where my choices led me to those dreams of passion, and not the dull of reality. I am sure I can still get them back, but I doubt I will ever be able to rid myself of that bitter taste. I betrayed my spirit the day I chose to tame it, and now to put it back into the wild would endanger it. But, I shall try, because my spirit is wise, it resisted domestication and fought off my mind's urge to control it and my heart's desire to subdue it. I will try, because my spirit has been the one constant in my life. Not my madness, nor my intellect, nor my kindness; my spirit has shown me the way but I have too often ignored it. No more. I don't want to find myself in my deathbed wishing I had loved more, given more, taken more risks. I have stood at the edge of that empty space too many times, driven by grief and madness, and when I step back I realise I don't want to play games anymore, and that being honest with myself, with what I desire is far more important than those unnerving thoughts of endings. I know now, after standing at that edge too many times and too close for comfort that the girl who dreamt those impossible dreams is not gone, she's just lost in the rubble of all my disasters.
That girl, that spirit, shall rise again, and fight and become me because the alternative is too terrifying to contemplate, no grey days, no red days, just bright intense mornings from now on. This girl was not born to live in a cage, or to play tricks in a tent. She doesn't belong in a zoo or in a circus. She belongs in the wild, beyond the reach of the mundane and the insane. She shall not be disappointed again, her spirit is strong, it has survived this much, and it shall remain strong within me till I find myself in that deathbed, satisfied, complete, relentless.
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