Tuesday, December 23, 2014
It's amazing how you can visualize tossing a part of you out to sea, saying farewell and shedding your skin, morphing into the "grown up" "normal" version of yourself, your own personal Moby Dick you'd been chasing for years, only to realize there is no "grown up" or "normal" box you fit in. You try to bend, mold, stuff down those pieces of yourself that don't quite fit, and it works. For awhile. It's not quite a comfortable fit, but if you focus on something else, maybe you don't notice it. Lather, rinse, repeat, day in and day out you live your life that "normal" way, accepting things the way they are. Irrevocably changed, undeniably altered, the box still doesn't fit your shape quite right. Until one day, the box tears a bit. And you can't help but see if your little toe can stick through. Instead, Pandora rips to pieces, and no duct tape in the world is putting it back together. And it's terrifying. It's vulnerable. It's all new now, but somehow familiar. And yet, as naked as you feel, as chilling as it is outside the box, you can't seem to stop smiling.
Posted by Ramble at 8:48 PM