I
Ixadavt
Plaster on a fake smile; plow through another day.
- Aug 18, 2022
- 38
A thought come to me: "Do you think the devil has his own demons?"
I rolled around with it for the better part of an hour and ran through the roladex of people I've known, and found myself puzzled as to whom I could share a thought of that nature with. A school friend who I remained close with into my 20's for certain, but I've known nobody in this half of my life who would play honestly with those questions. None who will even attempt to contemplate a metaphor beyond the shallow.
I find my thoughts of recent shrouded in fog. Vague and incoherent at best. Directionless. I feel like an aimless apparition, the wandering ghost. Waiting for my day; eager and terrified. Calm. Calm is the fog. In all directions as far as I can travel, a heavy, drowsy, warm calm.
I picture myself as a child sleeping between two large dogs. Comfort and protection, but not with its danger.
I had always been the worst of friends. How cruel would a god have to be to give to me the best of friends who deserves a great friend. How terrible it is to be a punishment. And for one as undeserving.
I am a broken pitcher. Perhaps she's finally given up trying to fill me. Maybe that's the calm I feel. She's can no longer try to help me and I can feel the relief from the endless faucet. No new guilt.
Perhaps now, we've come to our terms and she is relieved of the inevitable guilt she would have felt at my end. Guilt undeserved and unearned but guilt her soul could avoid. Guilt from the seed of graciousness. Most don't have it.
I think the devil had to have created his own worst enemy. You can't give freedom to the mind without having someone hate you for it. Even to hate you just to hate you because no one else hates you. I mean, they're demons, right? One of them had to turn their focus on him. At least one.
If you read all of this,
know that I appreciate you.
And the gifts of your time and attention.
I rolled around with it for the better part of an hour and ran through the roladex of people I've known, and found myself puzzled as to whom I could share a thought of that nature with. A school friend who I remained close with into my 20's for certain, but I've known nobody in this half of my life who would play honestly with those questions. None who will even attempt to contemplate a metaphor beyond the shallow.
I find my thoughts of recent shrouded in fog. Vague and incoherent at best. Directionless. I feel like an aimless apparition, the wandering ghost. Waiting for my day; eager and terrified. Calm. Calm is the fog. In all directions as far as I can travel, a heavy, drowsy, warm calm.
I picture myself as a child sleeping between two large dogs. Comfort and protection, but not with its danger.
I had always been the worst of friends. How cruel would a god have to be to give to me the best of friends who deserves a great friend. How terrible it is to be a punishment. And for one as undeserving.
I am a broken pitcher. Perhaps she's finally given up trying to fill me. Maybe that's the calm I feel. She's can no longer try to help me and I can feel the relief from the endless faucet. No new guilt.
Perhaps now, we've come to our terms and she is relieved of the inevitable guilt she would have felt at my end. Guilt undeserved and unearned but guilt her soul could avoid. Guilt from the seed of graciousness. Most don't have it.
I think the devil had to have created his own worst enemy. You can't give freedom to the mind without having someone hate you for it. Even to hate you just to hate you because no one else hates you. I mean, they're demons, right? One of them had to turn their focus on him. At least one.
If you read all of this,
know that I appreciate you.
And the gifts of your time and attention.