mizz_q

Perspective. A multidimensional notion. Something that I have been asking for for the past couple of days. Silent requests for a sign. Whispers of prayers for guidance. Yesterday a hope for a solution turned around to bite me in the ass. For the remaining waking hours I am left shaking my head. The same phrase keeps circling my mind. WHAT.... THE FUCK... JUST HAPPENED!! My stubbornness has gotten the best of me and I only feel defeated. I don't feel like I have been heard. My words, my intentions, how I feel just fell into a black hole. I am treading water in a sea of BUT. BUT what about this, BUT what about that, BUT what about the facts that were omitted like a top secret government file. Why do I ALWAYS ALWAYS have to be the one to take the high road, to do the right thing, or even to take the first step. Tears of frustration fill my eyes. They run down my cheeks leaving a trail of uncertainty. They fall onto my knees. The knees I end up on while I am at the beach. The beach is my haven, my paradise, my sacred place to find peace, to gather my senses, to ask for direction, the chance to breathe. I ask myself many questions. Questions that run in my head like a mini-cassette recorder. What is my fucking problem?! Why can't I do anything right?! Am I scared? What am I afraid of? Am I trying to sabotage something yet again? I remind myself to breathe. I forget sometimes. Forgetting to breathe is easy. Trying to fight the urge to cause some sort of damage is hard. A damage that seeps into ones mind like a poison. An infection with no vaccine. If the affliction is not treated directly it can spread quickly. As I lie baking in the hot Miami early afternoon sun I begin to think. Actually I never stop thinking. (Insert proverbial double edge sword.) Thinking is what got me to this point in the first place. It's never just one thought at a time. It's never something as simple as that, but a serious undertaking of all senses. I mean massive amounts of simultaneous assessment. A sequence of never ending "IF"s cycling through my brain. A meticulous robot. Analyze. Does not compute. Analyze. Does not compute. Analyze. Even while I process all the stimulus and vital information I yearn for some sort of evidence, an indication, an omen as to where I might find my answer, some solace. A cerebral temper tantrum. My mind is screaming like a two year old child flailing about on the floor. Sweat streams down my face. I have hit the boiling point. Approaching the ocean my attention is diverted and I am mesmerized by the symphony emerging from the waves. The briny sea undulating back and forth, to and fro. The waves rolling, building then crashing on the shore. The story of my life. The analogous rip tide ensues. A slight force of mother nature. A dance of antonyms, near and far, up and down, here and there, imminent and inconclusive. Once more the IFs' and WHYs' swirl around my head. I enter and I am barely knee deep in the water. The exertion of each wave growing stronger with the next. One wave. Still standing. The second wave. Still standing. My eyes are closed for only a moment and then.... BAM!! The powers that be knock me right on my ass. I am laughing. Did the other people on the beach witness this calamity? I laugh from embarrassment. I laugh because I got my answer. Mary Mary quite contrary.... got her ass taken down a notch. My atonement for my stubborn disposition. I sit there fighting the sand that is rapidly collecting in my bikini bottoms. The more I try to remove the sand the more that flows right back in with each lashing wave. Twice more I try to remove the sand, to no avail. I give up. I concede. Chuckling all the way back to my towel, I flop down, my head sways as I try to dismiss what has transpired. Each grain of sand a grinding reminder. My answer is already a faded memory. That answer is yelling, screeching, howling from the airy recesses of my rebuttal. WHAT? A faint murmur. HUH? As if to cry out from another echelon of existence my neglected manifestation professes. Stop fighting it. You have wanted this all of your life. Stop fighting it. What you have been asking for, what you have been pleading for, what you have been begging for your entire life you have right in front of you. Stop fighting it. This echos in my thoughts. Running around, bouncing into grey matter, colliding with my skull. It reverberates like a musical note that is way off key. I get it. I understand. As per my curse of perpetual introspection I ask myself, what am I fighting? Arriving at my flat I dash straight to the shower. A hasty cleansing. The water running down my epidermis confiscating each mnemonic spec of sand. The lavender soap overwhelming my olfactory bulb. Another reminder to breathe. Deep breath in, now let it out. Rinse and repeat. Inhale. Exhale. A new mantra is bestowed upon me. A few more words added to a chain of inconvenient truths not readily believed thus far. I shall regurgitate this script over and over, time after time, again and again until I am able to swallow this bitter pill. Notwithstanding my newly programmed mantra I shall continue to ask for a message, an omen, some kind of sign, guidance, perspective.