I'm having trouble letting go.
2012 is my year for letting go. 2011 was me, shellshocked from an accumulation of years of dreams gone sour, efforts achieving naught, and I was set to simply make my life about finding a job I could retire from, build a life with my boyfriend, retire, and eventually die.
I've always believed in some hidden purpose behind my life. I believed I would achieve something great, something lasting.
But I've achieved the stature of Ozymandias, only the monuments I've built were never built. They fell apart before they could be finished.
And I realize this sounds self-pitying. Overly Western maybe. People all over the world are lucky to have drinkable water, and here I am bemoaning the fact that I'm not successfully providing concrete evidence - exhibitions - of my supposed genius.
It may be pathetic that I'm even writing this, but it's true. It's how I feel. And I'm angry and sad because I don't feel the power inside me to let go of it. I've heard it a million times: 99% is a bitch, 100% is a breeze. Just let go and float into the unknown.
I do try to do that, but it seems more of an escape. I visualize myself floating in space, past the giant spheres of the universe, or exploring the wonders of the ocean. A being forgotten, unneeded, totally free, just being, just experiencing.
Unfortunately, translating that meditative bliss to some kind of belief system hasn't worked out.
Two ways of looking at it are clear. I could look at this as simply part of the path towards freedom, disengaging from my self-expectations. The other possibility is that by giving up my dreams, I have denied a major, important part of my soul.
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