Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Don't Cry Over Broken Beads
Free will is a joke. We are a system, and in order to survive in it you must follow its orders. From the second we are pushed screaming and red faced out of the womb, we loose any control we might have had.
Our parents tell us what to do. Our teachers tell us what to do. Our bosses tell us what to do.
The only way to assume any kind of control over your life is to end it.
Sometimes I wrote the word Control on my wrist with black sharpie. It was a habit for a while.
I'm not sure why. I'm not sure if it was supposed to be a reminder that I have no control over my own life, or to urge me to take control in whatever small way I can.
But that would often smear and run as I washed my hands during the day. Black ink melting its way into all the thousands of tiny cracks in my skin. Webbing away into nothing.
Later I made a bracelet. It was yellow and red glass sead beads, with the word Control in kids plastic alphabet beads on it.
As my life seems to be spiraling out of control more than ever, I've been wearing that bracelet more than ever.
Didn't find them all. Will never find them all.
My life is out of control.
My Control bracelet shattered into a million tiny pieces.
How's that for an omen.