Precipitating Endings

I am once again at that point where I don’t seem to grasp control, sleep has eluded me completely and I await its return with low-hopes. My body has survived on caffeine, cigarettes and writing for the past few days and once I prepare myself to lay my head in the pillow my mind erupts with meaning, and sleep once again fades. My moods are stable but my mind refuses to respond to my commands, I haven’t succumbed to the wine, and I am still finding solace in words. But still sleeps fails to appear. It’s been twenty-six hours since I last dreamt and my mind doesn’t seem to want to dream today.

I find myself at the mercy of precipitating endings, the certainty of decisions sealed I cannot escape, and the weight of their implications lays heavily on my mind. I have come to realise that is in moments where I start to fade away that clarity arrives, and reality removes its cloth of deceit and it is no longer possible to play hide and seek with myself. I am once again sitting at the crossroads of multiple destinies unable to choose one, fearful of what will not come into being. Inaction presents itself as my sole guide. I cannot chose and I do not trust fate to make that decision for me, much too leeway has been given to its whims, and the outcomes have left me restless.

At this point I recall all the selves that I projected onto the world and I fold them back on the limits of my own beginnings. I rest on the simplicity of my boundaries and await for inaction to burst them back into being, in the space where doubt disappears and where the sublime is in loving new futures will be dreamt.