It has nearly been one year since the inception of this work, and though I am loathe to admit my procrastination, the the time during which I have spent passively observing myself has to come to some sort of progress. Perhaps I can safely say that I have caught the tail of the beast, and no more than that. I have witnessed it, observed its behavior, and took note of its effects upon my temperament, my habit, my mood, and my personality. Since February, there have been too many missed opportunities to record the changes in me. But there has been a general change that is very obvious, and somewhat distressing.
I have tasted the bittersweet nectar of forgetfulness. I have wept in sorrow, in anger, and in joy. I have committed acts against myself and others which I cannot regret, twisting my eyes toward shining new perspectives and states of being -- the likes of which in earlier days I have only allowed myself to encounter with hesitation and restrain. Shadows expand and shrink within me; some days I have felt as though I am becoming open-minded and sincere; on other days I look forward to nothing but a silent darkness where nothing but my ego exists.
There are wonderful things to behold in spirals. You can stand still as the spiral of time moves beneath your feet until you find yourself looking across a chasm of change at the place where you stood before. Man many find himself overwhelmed by the potential for change in his perspective, in his behavior, and in his very being of life once he encounters the same situation twice. Yet I have found myself in the same situation as what happened before one April night in the states. I am a liar. I am a cheater. Lupa, the she-wolf, has become me, and I can not deny it. I can pretend to others for the sake of my own betterment, but each time I do, I feel as though the scant morals I carried with me here are slowly ebbing away into nothingness. Yes, Lupa is the one to blame, that fragment of my psyche that I can so easily forget, that I so purposefully put away like a broken toy. Have I not yet made predictions of myself in the past concerning her vile and destitute actions? Have I not yet awakened to the fact that she is indeed the cause of my downfall?
My shadow and I are one. The truth is unraveling, finally.
I have tasted the bittersweet nectar of forgetfulness. I have wept in sorrow, in anger, and in joy. I have committed acts against myself and others which I cannot regret, twisting my eyes toward shining new perspectives and states of being -- the likes of which in earlier days I have only allowed myself to encounter with hesitation and restrain. Shadows expand and shrink within me; some days I have felt as though I am becoming open-minded and sincere; on other days I look forward to nothing but a silent darkness where nothing but my ego exists.
There are wonderful things to behold in spirals. You can stand still as the spiral of time moves beneath your feet until you find yourself looking across a chasm of change at the place where you stood before. Man many find himself overwhelmed by the potential for change in his perspective, in his behavior, and in his very being of life once he encounters the same situation twice. Yet I have found myself in the same situation as what happened before one April night in the states. I am a liar. I am a cheater. Lupa, the she-wolf, has become me, and I can not deny it. I can pretend to others for the sake of my own betterment, but each time I do, I feel as though the scant morals I carried with me here are slowly ebbing away into nothingness. Yes, Lupa is the one to blame, that fragment of my psyche that I can so easily forget, that I so purposefully put away like a broken toy. Have I not yet made predictions of myself in the past concerning her vile and destitute actions? Have I not yet awakened to the fact that she is indeed the cause of my downfall?
My shadow and I are one. The truth is unraveling, finally.
