I have realized I’m a resent-er. A conformist resent-er, that is. I dislike it when I’m asked to do something I don’t want to do. Dislike being pulled or prodded into corners and being emotionally blackmailed. I dislike, even more, when the people who push me behave as though I’m doing myself a favor by following through on their ideas about how I should live.
But as I write this, I realize that what I dislike most of all is my own cowardice and inability to draw a line.
And still, I’m unable to stop any of it from happening. I allow others the power to make me second-guess myself andthen loathe my resultant powerless state of being.
It is no surprise then, is it, that I loathe your lack of presence? I know I shouldn’t. It was mostly my doing and I ought to be okay with that, accept the choices I made irrespective of the reasons behind it.
And not all breakups are bad, now, are they? Take maps, for example.
The Northern Star lost its throne to the Enlightenment project, and Renaissance maps found routes that diverted from all origins of superstition and mythology. Brainwashed into being nothing more than abstract serviceable systems that defined boundaries and land rights, maps no longer defined the glory of the gods. They became, instead, the projections of the liberation of human rational and this rise of Perspectivism led to the assemblage of space and time which reintroduced Individualism.
I thought I was doing the same. Restructuring my inner social and individual mandate by creating a schism between us.
How was I to know you’d be my Northern Star?
Disoriented and lost,