pretty piece of flesh

I was really crappy to someone today.  Like, really crappy.  I could feel the crappy starting in my belly from my place of security and then my eyes narrowed and I felt a reaction to the smell of plastic and office supplies.  Supplies pushed by nose-hair tendrils into my lungs catching on the cilia inside phlegm,  inching out after having collected the pollution of the air, the pollution of my mind.  We all just push around negative energy like chunks of dirt we can’t pick up with a broom—I’m mad I have no printer and now I’m mad at the dude who has no copies who was probably already mad before.  The negative energy spins and spins collecting sparks like piles of coal dust in a corner waiting to be spread out away from its own volatile energy and pushed around so it doesn’t catch fire again.  Is it the smoldering that is fine?  Does the explosion get to us? Or do we just fear the fire?  Because it’s bound to happen, energy piles up, energy is released.  Touch your skin now and feel the heat of your own body–its own furnace, its own sun with planet arms revolving and watching its path bumped out of line by small daily interactions.  Daily interactions that bother my sun-core.  I am not mean to people I don’t know over copies and yet here I am.  Mean.  Just plain mean. I find myself saying…well I am the customer.  I am self.  You are other.  I am subject, you are object.  We are distinct now as I have found you cannot help me.  And now you might just not want to.   Later I lay and stare at the popcorn and bundled parts of my ceiling letting it reflect my flawed character–my idiosyncrasies.  And I hear the thumping narrative of excuses we have for being crappy.  Oh well she’s just mean to people over the phone.  Another pile of dirt hidden.  Oh well he’s just grumpy in the morning.  More dust collecting for fire.  Part of being uncomfortable is cleaning out the corners to find the fires before they happen.  But please, don’t let that stop you from burning here and there.  Rise from your own ashes and appreciate your own flesh.  Because we are all flawed chunks of flesh.

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This entry was posted in character study, Christmas, depression, Dharma, eccentric, Existentialism, Expansion, Fear, Laramie, Mental Health, Mindfulness, poverty, privilage, PTSD, Self Growth, Self Love, Self Reflection, Universiality, Wyoming and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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