broski.
a creative mind is like a lake or pond. placidity, the stillness of the waters, transforms a perfectly healthy biome into one ideal for dysmorphic thoughts and self-reflection that choke a balanced habitat of its sustainability. opportunistic scum that just appears one day and sucks all your energy away, growing over every part of you and your life. creating toxins. blocking sunlight. eventually killing you — or at least your will. this soul sludge is easy to kill, but its rate of growth is directly proportional to how long you let it sit.
crazy how easy it is to clean out algae though. but it’s an all-day chore and it’s messy. no one likes cleaning a fish tank — imagine the same process, but inside your consciousness. where do you even start?
i’ve spent years in that state, thinking i’m a waste of time, a waste of space.
everything i had left, i gave away to people who didn’t deserve it. every passion i had, i traded for the cheap fix — booze, drugs, pussy, clout.
the hedonist bastard. that’s me.
the drugs wear off, even when you’re taking more than when you started.
it’s the inner rot — the kind that hums behind your eyes when you realize the party’s been over for years, but you’re still in a random kitchen at 7 a.m. drawing up plans to start a business with someone you just met.
people who are smart, woke, enlightened, illuminated — whatever word you pick — it’s devastating sometimes. awareness of how stupid and pointless and painful shit can be: the curse of knowing.
despair burns out quick; apathy’s the squatter that moves in after.
then it’s just awareness — that everything’s looping, everyone’s pretending, and maybe so are you. but who gives a fuck?
enlightenment isn’t glow; it’s fluorescent. it buzzes. it bleaches everything the color of piss.
you see too much. you know too much. self-awareness doesn’t come with a dimmer switch.
sometimes i’d just sit there, staring through the television i’d been watching all day, all week, all month — watching the machine eat itself and calling it peace. convincing myself i’d finally achieved it.
the weird thing is, while algae depletes oxygen, it also creates it — heals the poisoned atmosphere. becomes food for something else.
the cycle.
earth’s version of shadow work.
sunlight burns through the film, the body twitches, the mind coughs, and somehow the habitat grows back. uglier, maybe. but stronger.
it’s easy to kill algae.
hard to stay clean.
