I saw a painting this weekend of a man in two different realms- one of confidence, comfort, ambivalence and unconventionality. The other in fear, confusion and a passion left unsparked.
Maybe this was him all along, a dichotomy, a contradiction to his core. A being left to different impression. Moldable. A lack of opinion and vigor. Is he an illusion even to himself? Is he capable of destruction to more than himself?
How can a heart experience trauma induced by someone who is no one... a moldable ideology.
I will never be simple minded, submissive or conventional.
I cut all my hair off, shed myself of feminine expectation. Why do people challenge expectation? to remind themselves that they are no longer tied to ignorance- that life is real and pain is truth. They reject conventionality to seek what is genuine and tough. Embrace the raw, the organic.
How I've changed, how I've become calloused. But how freeing it is to no longer be tied to good impression and expectation, no longer having to adhere to a pedestal.
And now the youth in my face is gone, I am left whithered, . The sparkle has darkened and the wheels of idealism have stopped.
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