WHY WE SHOULD BE CONSCIOUS OF THE THINGS WE SAY
When waking up in sunlight…are you living or simply breathing?
Opening my eyes in this misty haze of ridicule caused disruption in the body. Within moments I began to wonder if the life dunes that smothered my horizons can tell the difference between my words, mind, body and soul. It was not enough to say I was drowning, but starving for release. Release from the conversation that questioned my own integrity while it simultaneously clung to it for survival.
Why am I saying this? I found myself stranded, lost, abducted and trapped in the desert. The journey isn't limitless. It has to end. There are planned escape routes but there was a limit on how long I could wonder until I became so lost that my journey never ended. But yes, why am I saying this?
The source is unknown but the posture and positioning is definitive of style in motion
Because I'm thinking of the end, and of course, the paradoxical idiom called reality. My battered speech became a new Elysium, a way of maintaining the disorder. I was told that I was possibly a danger to you. That I was somehow, outside the gaze of understanding, I was aligning with being retrograded matter. I'd imagine my freedom when being given my meals at stays at the psychiatric facilities and scream for release.
You see, I cannot determine the mortality of another. Not even when being held so closely to their chest that our two hearts seemingly collide. So how then, did others do this to me so seamlessly? I like thinking with my survivor's mind that the ones who do this, practice the art of insanity.
This image is apart of a collection of works by Zelgba.
As a human, I'd like to believe that once drawn, a line called my body can not used for another single soul and that no one else would like to join me in it. Laughing out loud why should we be so conscious of what we say? — After all, when speaking, do we actually think before we quake. Maybe a handful of survivors levitate at the chance of true breathing, in and outside the bubble. In this, how much of what we say will result in zero impact. Or rather, how much of what we say would shake a loving resistance?
No need to protest. I liked to remind myself of the bitter, unrelenting anxiety that plagues endings. A world built out of fear, ignorance, arrogance, and danger causes too much harm. Harm to the individual and harm to ones who chose to love them. I'd like to reason that mindfully selecting our next words or action can breathe new life into this cave of darkness and illuminate our brisk resolve so that we don't go around inflicting harm.