Not-so Angry Endings
When I started this rant, I had titled it ‘Angry Endings’. I have since edited some of the angry parts out, and part of it may be because I had a conversation today[29/03/2023] that was overdue for ten years, and I feel great.
I have been contemplating endings, and not only because my Netflix subscription was for The Office and now that it’s not there anymore, it feels like a never ending vacuum of my money for shows I can find elsewhere. It may also be paramount to clarify that my thoughts were not of the self-harm kind, in case Kasarani’s upstairs business catches up with me. It is particularly strange when you are thinking of ending a phase you always thought would last for at least a longer while than it did. Maybe the cure is not wishing, because inasmuch as horses are a dream, I am realizing I am not one to ride through the bullshit.
There can only be enough times that you will do something that keeps you down in the dumps before you pull yourself out. And I know, I am sounding a bit over philosophical here. That is the intention.
It pushes you, having to remain at one point, circling. Made to be a hawk in wait for chicks that may never show. It makes you angry, and you try to remain calm, in your spot. But just as you have been placed there, with precision, you must remain. They know what they’re doing. Plus, malice is never an option. No escape. No expectation. You have to be still.
The possibility of being still is foreign for a heart that flies downhill on its feet. I blame Shadow and Bone for all the faux-deep philosophical madness spewing from me. Leigh Bardugo is a white lady ahead of her time. It is absolutely fascinating how good she weaves her worlds together.
It is like barrelling down a highway, as a 1960 Corvette C1 while playing Forza Horizon, but there’s a bus right next to you that’s going just as fast and it accelerates when you do, brakes when you crash and picks it back up, and, get this, it is also not a game you’re playing. Chasing to no end and for no benefit. No endorphins provided with a high score because the finish line is always changing. And you try, your index finger pressing on the accelerate, trying to control everything that keeps falling apart, when all you need to do is release to get back to yourself.
I have no tolerance for adults that choose ignorance. For a friend’s friend who is full of complaints about nothing. For lovers that pretend to know you but choose to not listen. For family that, well, you now know share blood, but not common sense. I have been at a knife’s edge [a safe knife]. The last year has been insane. We have been in a whirlwind of trying to stabilize a career that keeps evolving, chasing dreams of school that are finally working out and moving around looking for meaning. Looking for topics that come fleeting and rarely stay to be anything tangible.
Audrey Niffenegger writes of a time traveler and his wife in her debut novel. Henry DeTamble time travels involuntarily since he was 5 years old. However, inasmuch as his travels take him away from Clare, they also lead him to her, years apart. It is fascinating how a story weaved in the eyes of literal ghosting finds space to be romantic. They both long for each other, while being together in different timelines. We are in an obsessed, can’t put it down, might be my favorite book of the season kind of time.
The curveballs have been plenty. They flooded each corner we tried to hide in, and I am exhausted of hiding. I know it for a fact because it has happened before. It will happen. There will be more shots to pull this heart out of my sleeve. I know this for a fact because it has happened before. At the risk of sounding like Gandalf, be the phoenix, though the fire burned nowhere as bright as 2022.
This note, is an ode to things that we have to exit from. Lack, withdrawal, cowardice, blame games that lead to nothing. I am no masochist. May they end. Amen.
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Vulnerability is armor too. Sometimes being your authentic self is the best protection you can ever have.
Billy Chapata [@iambrillyant]