Broken Aviary

Words have been hard to compose. It seems when I’ve tried to speak, I feel my throat swollen shut, sputting noises creating an incoherent sequence of squeaks. Writing has fallen into a similar hole, with grasping at the few shards of hope that have swayed just barely out of my reach for months. This feeling dwells on so many. After hanging on for so long and feeling the tension buffer my skin into a primed leather, I find myself simultaneously toughened and internally weak.

Symbolism aside, my community has weakened.

If any lesson has been taught, it is the shear lack of control in anything external to the self. I flew too close to the sun and burned my wings. I built several new pairs, all to fail in flight. Yet, yet, an aspect of optimism is having me continue to push on, despite countless career rejections. I overestimated myself and have learned more than I could have imagined. Perhaps I fear though this journey will mean nothing, and the only thing to show from it is a wounded family.

Choice is funny like that; consequences for your actions, but you can’t know until you’ve taken direction.

It should be a time to be easier on the self and not constantly question where I’m lacking, yet I spend many of these nights wondering why I am not the chosen candidate. I know I’m capable. I know I communicate it. What do I still do wrong? It shouldn’t be this personal. What effects are being done to the unseen are unjust pain that will never be truly understood by those in power. Indeed, even when we attempt to quantify it, the numbers mean nothing.

With my voice feeling silenced, I find the dullness of a quiet night feeding into the loop. Silence emanating silence. Whatever sense of being I’ve been pushing through exposed and bare to let my “person suit” breathe for a moment. I take it all in. Exhale. What goal can I possibly accomplish admist this chaos? Will I finally come to peace with what I was and who I’ve become from this process? Will I let my failed wings bury me beneath the ground, or will I find a way to take flight? I don’t have a clue what aspect of myself will get the best of me, but if there is anything else to state, it is nothing is static.

Some force will cause action.

~ by Vetus Animus on December 9, 2020.