Ahhh nobility, what a strange and egotistical word. But here I am, choosing to flee all the irrational debauchery and capacity for delusion on some impulsively instinctive hope of sensibility. Escaping the violence but not the inaudible screams of a hunger painted in pleasantries, missing it’s mark. Far from beliefs shaped with feeling rather than criteria. Although that was there too, it only mattered to those who needed it. And I, as it so happened, did not. I held my senses in the highest regard while alternating great sadness and an untouchable stoicism, but always allowing, watching, listening to the sounds. The potential and trust in all the unknowing encouraging me along the way. Finding refuge in it’s significant insignificance, paling in comparison to many suffering seasons where comfort came against my will but truth had once ripped me right open to a vastness and a depth of sadness forever buried underneath it all. Strength is built on this kind of thing they say, but there is something to be said about fragility, The err of my nature that seemed to offend so many, so many who pride themselves on composure and false bravado, not knowing their own transparency. Afraid to allow for more than one dimension. Confined by convention. Your human is showing, I feel like saying, but how dare I accuse anyone of that.
So I’ll take what’s left of your words, what’s left of my wounds, and find light in lessons cast in shadows and foreign ways to love. Because outside of yourself you see, exists a reality beyond your peripheral, One you never cared to know before the thumping of your chest, before the conscious closing and your true colours stained everything inside the box you put me in. Cutting me down to size, so I could fit inside. Painting me in black and white with all the indignities and lack of imagination your capacity enabled. Finding comfort in never having known me at all. Finding comfort in never having known you at all.