I can’t remember the last time I had a reason to pour my eyes out in a fit of proper pain or when I last felt the slow burn of lust. Are those feelings somehow markers that we are alive? Certainly I am capable of summoning all the characters and episodes of my past and present that remind me that I am indeed human, that I am indeed alive. Then why do I feel like I’m in an active state of decay?

Recently I find myself in a singular mental focus to change the state of routine. I feel an urge to take a bat to this monotony, to redefine my identity, to push myself to the edges of my creativity and capacity to create; but I also know myself. I’ve been there before and in total abandon, I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole. Ironically, the spiral out that happened in the absence of structure and routine, was most destructive to me. I did, however, achieve to pour my eyes out and burn to a crisp in lust. 

Maybe these experiences have made me better equipped to empathize with others. But I’ve learned that feeling numb is safe for me and for the ones I love. It also affords me some semblance of professional success and reputation. But the tick of time is also tapping on my door, just like the tap of a smoker’s addiction, and I am reminded that the greatest expression of me is still yet to break out.