I’ve Only Just Begun

I have experienced cruelty, but I will not be cruel.

I have been treated hatefully, but I will not hate.

I have wounded, but I have not been broken.

I am, I will, and fuck any weak piece of shit with delusions of grandeur who imagines for one fraction of a second that who I am and what I choose are dictated by anything but my own will.

I will grieve, I will falter, I will fall and fail, and I will grow, and I will leave more wastes of time and energy behind me, and, live or die, it will be on my terms. I choose what is mine to choose, and everything else is someone else’s fucking problem.

None of you, I mean none of you, ever made me anything. I chose. I fought. I never fucking ceded my right to be, to resist. To decide. To privacy. To choice. To fucking lie down and rest and recover. What you did is your failing, your crime, your shame.

Every second, I endure. I learn. I move on.

Do not imagine for a second because I have been kind or tolerant or forgiving or hurt that I am weak. I maintained the former in spite of the latter because I am not. I refrained from the latter in all but the most defensive (usually of others) circumstances because I am not. And none of you have any concept of what I am capable of. I do. And in the end, even that does not matter, because what I do is down to what I will, not what I can.

However, wherever, whenever I go, I will be more at peace with myself than most people will ever be. Because I choose, goddammit, and that will always be.

What doesn’t kill me I will alchemize into greater strength. I will never, never, never give up. To paraphrase the song my nana’s most metaphorical music box played, I’ve only just begun. The dancing caged bird that I broke by dropping, then fixed by dropping again. It was years later, but that little bird woke the fuck up, and danced. One wound stopped it, another brought it back to life.

I can bear this, as I have borne it all. I can. I am. I do. I will.

And I don’t give a fuck what you think or do or make of this. Never grow. Never apologize. Never acknowledge change is inevitable. Never take responsibility. It doesn’t fucking matter. That is up to you. And it will never undo me.

I will almost certainly descend back into the dark. I am not done there, not yet. But for this moment, I remember, who I am, what I will, what I have survived, and I am better than alright.

I am free.

I have only just begun.

If you will, broken or healed, dance with me.

 

 

Word-vomit Edits

Since I have been, for a few days now, just been barfing out text and publishing it as is, I am going to take a hiatus to revisit those blurts and decide which, if any, are reworkable into something a little less personally cathartic and a little more public-consumption-worthy. It has been a good exercise in making a daily habit of writing, but at some point, writing without making edits loses its value as a learning experience. And as I have time and adequate light to take usable photos (or at least good-enough-to-digitally-edit-photos) and more art to publish, those posts will continue to appear over time. Just an fyi to the data collection void.