Tag Archives: prisoner

One Common Denominator


When you spend the majority of your life wondering why each attempt at progress ultimately lands at the feet of failure, it could be wise to start taking inventory of the repeating variables.

If every social situation feels strained. If the looping cycle of start, stop, and repeat has scarred you with burns of a broken skipping record. If it seems like the world is reading a different page. If the inconceivability of normalcy is shocking. If there’s a security in remaining a prisoner to your own thoughts because that’s the only space where safety lives…then the obstacle to happiness and fulfillment is you. Well, I am finally ready to raise my hand into the air and admit that I am the problem.

I am the metaphorical lawnmower, starting with a forceful pull, attacking the task at hand, and then sputtering out in a cloud of smoke and burned clippings. Loud and resolute, my job is unyielding. Opinions and criticism are casualties left in the wake of my obsessive focus, eyes fixed on the finish line. Optimistic for options, I am seduced by the notion of possibility. Then, the tower of cards inevitably crumbles. I curse the lack of horsepower and blame the grass for being damp. But I’m the one who decided to mow in the rain.

My preferences too rigid and my lifestyle too stubborn, I alienate to maintain a false notion of control. Then I expect an illusory support system to cradle my artistic ideals for the betterment of the big picture. But that’s not how people operate. It’s how robots are programmed.

Until I stare into that mirror long enough to see why the fly is flailing in the ointment, I will continue to ride that slingshot back to start.

But identifying the sharpness of the thorn is the first step in facilitating its removal.

Adolescence Interrupted

Disappearing in Plain Sight


A shadow of a shell of the soul that once felt electric and alive, has now become a petulant stepchild, unruly and unpredictable. Fickle and feisty, it seems to march defiantly to its own beat, with little respect for the rhythm of the collective or the rules that govern the occasion. Turning its back on the gardener who helped it to grow, this rascal spits in the face of convention and sinks into a state of isolation better reserved for prisoners on punishment.

Motivation through coaxing or logic falls on deaf ears, while the routine ruts of a foundation built on quicksand continue to pull. Finding the route to the roots would take an effort of Herculean proportions, so the casing’s commander is forced to abide by behavior that drives a wedge between aspiration and reality, often losing the battle to humdrum habit.

After accepting any port in the storm, seas eventually settle. But the uncertainty wrapped within erratic shifts in energy does little to mollify a constant stream of projection, even when abundant support, reassurance, and logic are at play.

These opposing forces should find some agreeable common ground, not duel to the death for a seat in the front row. But cooperation doesn’t seem to be a priority on the agenda.

The brain is a twisted, torturous playground, delighting in the chaos it creates and laughing at the architect bent over his drafting table, desperately designing blueprints to slow the ascent of lava lurching toward the lip of the volcano.

But every sunrise brings another opportunity to attain that elusive balance, and the pursuit to catch a piece of the past continues.

Adolescence Interrupted