SadisticExcess

It’s out there, a mixed blessing blended sweetly and bitterly with change. There is a moment’s rush as I digest the sensation of knowing I am wanted, without question above all others - until I see, feel, the counterweight slowly dragging down my euphoria to a more managable and somehow, disappointing level. I knew it was coming and so even my high was muted, the idea fed to me in bits and pieces by well-intentioned people trying perhaps, to share my joy. It is a joy, of sorts, knowing there is an out, someway to clean the mud off of my dirty hands and rise out of the decay that weights heavily on my shoulders, and the shoulders of many people stronger than myself.

It is nice to see a doorway as I walk along, hunched over, cursing the mire that weighs my feet and covers me from neck to toe. It gives me some hope that - I don’t know, that some of this weariness will evaporate from my skin. Maybe that stain on my palms will suddenly be able to be washed away. Those files weigh on me heavily, even when I made every effort to save them from their demons - even as they cursed and spat at me - worse.

And here is this out, this glorious out which I eye with a distrust for no other reason than it is too good, too easy. The road has never been paved before my feet. I’ve fought for everything - my education, my ethics, my woman, my job. Can it be so simple as to walk through a door and simply be clean again?

My mind says no, but then its tireless rantings have my thought in circles, perfect circles, turning endlessly over in my head. It is my mind that reminds me that I am imperfect and my logic that dictates my decision to listen or ignore the inner dialogue. I am not perfect, but that dirt and those files staining my hands and mind, those - those simply are a fever, gone with a dose of fresh air and a slate wiped clean.

I control the slate.