Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Sparring Artist 2

  Every fraction of a mile bringing you closer to that job is stripping away your defenses and subjecting you to a asteroid belt of panic and fear. Yet you trudge forward as if on a holy quest with the full support of your loved ones. Beneath it all, you know they are not supporting your demise. You have crossed that insidious line where you are truly on your own. In the best of circumstances, you are the captain of your fate and all that. Today, muscles all over your body contract from quakes that follow desperate gasps for air. No matter how dire the circumstances of these moments may be, you will end up defending your choices and straining to convince those loved ones you are not a loser.

  The basis for pursuing the silly stories and flights of fancy that matter so much to you is one you invented for yourself after all. So when you go, so goes it. There is no one to mind it for you. Not only are the people and ideas you live for falling away like debris but you find yourself aiding in the evacuation, stripping yourself of all emotional weight you cannot bear in that moment. You always hope to be able to put it all back together again and you almost always seem to pull it off. The lingering guilt over all you forsook in the name of survival never fails to materialize. It cannot ever be expressed to those individuals for what was merely a thought always gathers potential for causing pain as soon as it hits the open air.

  The battle will never cease. Your options seem limited to who you may enlist as allies and on what scale you engage the enemy. The original clash, the sparring match you wake up to daily always takes precedence and sets the tone for all subsequent bravery. Say a prayer for those equally embattled souls who lack even this feeble shield of words and craft.

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