"Experience is what you get when you don't get what you want."
Fiery arrows sent shockwaves down my spine striking my superego and starting an unnerving sequelae of introspection. Over the past few years I had become so fixated on the job, relationship, and degree. This year I lost it all; striving for more no longer sustained me. I knelt at my desecrated altar weeping over broken pieces of my identity. I scraped all the shattered parts together denying this was how it ends for me. I mitigated cracked vessels hoping to salvage something worthy. I began bargaining with each trinket fighting to find one thing I could fix or save. "Something has to give," I thought, "these structures represent all my hopes! Every single dream!" Desperately trying to save the statutes I sacrificed the past decade of my life earning only resulted in my bloodshed. Every arrow punctured my core; every drop of blood broadcasted my vulnerability. I didn't have time to see where I had been pierced or where my enemy was. I didn't even know who the enemy was. I never realized I was at war. I helplessly watched my armor break apart and betray me revealing all my deepest insecurities. I laid teary-eyed on the ground and accepted this was the end for me. I closed my eyes and began to drift off to where I assumed would be eternity. 3 days passed before I mustered the will to open my eyes and sit up. 4 days later I was able to stand. I could hear my mentor saying, “keep going Faith perseverance will pay off for you!” I began dressing my wounds as much as my pain tolerance allowed. I imagined my pride oozing out of every wound, saturating each bandage, and binding up all the impurities. My bleeding slowed then subsided. My id weakened then yielded to sadness. Not one idol I went to war over came off the throne I'd built to comfort me. None of the dry bones I'd spent countless hours speaking life into attempted to resuscitate me. No one I'd lifted up lent me a hand once they arrived at the top and made it over. Everyone had left me for dead. I tended to every wound monitoring each stage of healing. I relish the resilience of my skin. I honor the wisdom my discolorations whisper. Hyperpigmentation reflects my kaleidoscopic morals, integrity, and character. I paid heed to the dangers of disillusionment with each bandage; I vowed to every scar never to rebuild those shrines again. Embracing the fragility of flesh wields great power over death. Sometimes I succumb to my ego and pick at different scabs. I dissect dry patches scratching for an answer that could explain why no one came to my defense. Self-mutilation became the go to method in pinpointing exactly where I'd let my guard down. I forgot to not remember how my doing had become my undoing. I did not remember to forget all the embarrassing moments I laughed with them as they laughed at me. I punish myself for only now realizing the ulterior motives after having lead with pure intentions for so long. I wince at my nativity. I wallow in my folly. My woes mock my fate. This year I sacrificed every one of my plans, passions, desires, dreams. Life offered back my predestined purpose with another invitation to enjoy uncharted territory. My battle wounds reveal the power of silence in conflict; resemble the art of words in manifestation; reflect the possibilities of freedom in letting it all go. I am shedding the scales of 2025 and getting acquainted with this new majestic armor wondering what mysteries await. Experience transcends acceptance. Acceptance ascends peace.
