Colour Upon Colour

My mind takes me interesting places. Here is one of them. Full of the ‘why’s and ‘how’s that seem to control me sometimes, this journal was written back when I was in Chicago, a little bit younger and called by a different name.

“Why is it that I must reexamine myself constantly? Second guessing each conviction and hobby, trying to discern if it is pure, or if it’s residue from the people around me.

Why does the echo chamber I claim to be so afraid of feel like home? Each brain wave tainted by a different human. The loudest voice always wins.

Why can I not strain loud enough to be heard over the noise? I just want to be myself, but the clearness of Glory seems lost in between the lines of colour surrounding me. Each colour good and important, but they stain, stacking upon each other, until all that is there is a dark brown. Could it be that each stain is a part of me? Molding and shaping me into a new creation, full of life experiences and personal beliefs that are now wholly and truly mine. Or are they covering the potential I have to create my own colour?

It is so easy to sleep and let others do my thinking for me. Why would I strain when there is a simple way out? It looks so tempting. So easy. Yet it is a trap. A harsh cycle of different Glory’s spinning in circles, each one straining to please a different person, conform to each new belief. The fear of being found out propelling me forward. Spinning out of control before collapsing into a heap of nausea and tears. “It’s impossible!”, it screams. The Being that lives inside my brain. The creature that tells me to quit, leave it all. “Why suffer more when you can just sleep?” it croaks.

Well why not?! Sleep. Rest. Forget. No more voices, colours or versions of myself that all feel fake. I have no answer to the question of “why not?” Maybe one day I will. An answer I thought up for myself. One that I can wholly own and foster and grow. Until then, I’ll try to stop spinning so much. Dizziness causes me to think.”

The field up the hill from my house. One of the few places I truly feel truly me.

One thought on “Colour Upon Colour

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