The Water

I can’t believe it’s come to this.

A life in chains or a raised fist.

The chains, that you thought were imposed on you by society, expectations from friends, family, partners, lovers, your upbringing, your own ego and self-belief that everyone is watching, that idea that you are so important. These chains weren’t cast on you by external entities trying to destroy you. They were slung over your shoulders, across your back by yourself. These burdens are yours and your choice.

The names you gave to your self-imposed oppression, your struggle, your fight against them, they were just labels; badges, an identity in order to give you the belief that you are deeper and more interesting than you actually are. You are a label with a rule book you have to adhere to, out of fear you will be outed as a fraud or a traitor to your imaginary cause.

The pursuit to say “I’m an individual” through means of identification with a particular way of life, an ideology, a false truth, a lie. You identify as the brand, a character, an actor on a stage that is not yours, you are not the person.

You stop being the individual, the entity that is eternal, evolving and infinite. You’ve forgotten you were born into a sea chaos and you will die in it. Drowning, struggling or otherwise.

Your search for truth and identity has you fighting against the waves, the rips, the tide, the moon, the universe in order to feel justified by your own truth of yourself.

There is no truth, there is only chaos. You can either embrace it, learn to live with it or die.

You can fight against the tide, the undertow, the waves in the pursuit of a truth that will never be realised and a struggle that will never see an end.

Or you can relax and swim in the ocean, let the waves take you, bask in the sun, but knowing you won’t drown.

Let the liquid of uncertainty wash over you in the comforting realization. You don’t know shit.

You are who you are.

You are eternal.