I’ve learned that to accept something is different than defeat. To take a blade to the belly of a facet of oneself is not given up or being taken by, but quite the contrary. It is to make peace with knowing that it’s no longer fruitful to continue fighting. The one’s quality of life will greatly diminish as the conflict continues. It takes honor, conviction, and self respect to accept. It takes honesty and knowledge of self, it takes humility to see that your opponent has won. Just as it takes literacy to comprehend punctuation, one must see when a sentence is finished. To persist, be it from pride to rage, is to balter abound like a blackguard, allowing said conflict to control the rest of ones contrite consciousness. All that would be left is suffering. There’s no award to be won for that, for falling into the abyss, for giving oneself to the fears of their ego.
To accept the things I cannot change is to not become some monster, feeding off of these placebo validations that “I may still have a chance” or more so “I still have control.” I will never discredit the value of cracked ribs and broken this’s and that’s, no. Please, wear them as great medals of valor and zeal. But I don’t wish to wander through space, grasping for another light, so sure this next wayward star will be different.
About this time last year I learned what it was to unknowingly be made to play the role of “the other person”. I then understood an empathy from this, in knowing what that look was I’ve seen in the eyes of so many I’ve been blessed with the opportunity to care about. They stand, processing the blow of knowing that they are “someone else”, when all they’ve yearned for is to have the place in my heart that I do in their’s.The eye’s of accepting that won’t happen.
That place in my heart is filled with charcoal dust and jars of paint, only existing at the tip of a brush. I’ve seen how my body of work reacts to being made the mistress, and I cannot be that me anymore. I can’t see me right if not through these works. I still haven’t figured out if that’s vanity yet, or if I would care if it were. But I cant love someone either, not if that’s where it comes from as I’ve seen. I can’t say that I do and have them play that role. I can’t tell someone that they have my heart as I learn that never has it pounded more lovingly than when diving into this process.
I obviously have not yet learned a balance… but the conflict has become if I even care to.