staircase

i feel like i’ve pushed potentiality to the sidelines. like there’s an ideal version of me out there that i keep failing to acknowledge. she’s trapped in the books i’ve promised myself i’ll get around to reading and the plans i’ll never follow through with. she’s a half-formed thought you conceive in the middle of your shower that evaporates as soon as you leave the steam. she always alludes me – no; i always allude her.

the biggest commitment issue i have is with my own self. i invest all of my energy just trying to feel a sense of connection to whoever i am in the moment, i forget that this version of me isn’t the final one.

i always feel like i’m one step behind myself.

i’m on one of
those impossible staircases
movement is an optical illusion
and the truths i’ve invested in
are all fallacies
the top is the bottom
and east is west
on a penrose stairway
and i don’t know where to go next

i need to know myself more fully.

when i think of who i was last year, i don’t remember all the sad parts first. i think of the ‘me’ that emerged out of all of that. she was born out of turbulence. sitting on her bedroom floor with a journal and a cup of tea and siegfried on repeat. i remember that night so vividly. clarity always comes at the end of a cycle. right now it just feels like i’ve been moving without really going anywhere.

i guess what i really miss is catharsis.

i want to be the person that i know most intimately. i want to understand why i feel the way i do and i want to know how to care for myself and when i need to be more gentle. i want to look in the mirror and feel an overwhelming sense of home.

i need to invest more time in shadow work. i need to stop fidgeting with ephemeral surfaces and dive more deeply into this being. there’s a centre inside of me that i can sense. this infinitely grounding presence. i just need to drop down into it.

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