There’s a purpose in you.
That’s undeniable.
You ignore it. You suppress it. You undervalue it. You hide it away where no one can see it.
Yet you expect the world to see it in you.
But, you don’t have to.
That’s what I want you to understand before you “take in” the following.
…
We as humans are insanely vulnerable to cutting out our own eyes.
What keeps you from seeing what you should be doing? What you are? Who you are?
What keeps you from doing the same things that you’re thinking?
Most people make themselves blind, not knowing it was them who took their sight.
It’s not the world or industry. It’s not your parents or friends. It’s not a lack of resources or control.
These are only agitators of your condition, not the source.
You are.
You have what no one can take from you.
Self-control.
…
My life is half discombobulated hellfire and half militarized mission.
I’m moved by art…at least when I allow myself to soak in it; to forget the world outside of me and appreciate all things creative.
And as a writer, I’ve noticed how influential words are to me. The emotion they evoke, the curiosity they breed, and the articulation demand.
That’s the reason for my why I do what I do.
…
“Until My Heart Stops” and “Death Will Come”
These are the tattoos that sit in the open on the soft inside of my forearm, ready for anyone to read and question.
But they’re not for people…they’re for me.
Only me.
They sit in the most obvious spot on the body to be recognized by the self. The closest “canvas” for the eye to recognize.
But as a human, I get discouraged by others who don’t understand me. I’m unnecessarily inclined to clarify to the people who ask about them, always with a skewed and judgmental face.
These people are the ones who decide, whether to themselves or in conversation with me, that I have a dark outlook on life, or that I’m trying to remind everyone else of the dreadful end that none of us can escape and all of us are afraid of.
But, here’s the truth.
To know death, to be aware of it, and to contemplate it…is to remain aware. Aware of its overwhelming significance.
It should make you scared. It should remind you of finitude.
It is truth.
It brings reality to the forefront. It keeps the sense that what we are is worth taking advantage of. To seek, to venture, to succeed, to demand the best of ourselves.
To return the eyes we ourselves cut out.
Because fear will do one of two things: make you freeze or make you move.
And the way you move is dependent on your courage.
Death is the reminder that no one truly knows what happens in the end, and regardless of what does, making the best of this life is the only way to dissolve any fear of it.
To know in the end that you’ve done so much, exhausted so deeply the essence of your soul and mind, that you’re ready to move on.
And even if we do live maximally and still fear death by the end…we do so with memory.
With the accomplishments to console us and make it okay.
With satisfaction and not regret.
…
That’s the reason for my tattoos.
They are not a reminder of death, they are a reminder of life before death.
They are a reminder to return my eyes to their rightful place, so I can walk the world as my best self.
The path that everyone must take, whether they choose it intentionally or not.
What I want you to know is that reminding yourself of your creativity and of what life is to you is just as important as living it.
No, you don’t have to plaster death and darkness on your body. But find how to keep your “sight” in a way that you can’t ignore.
To bring yourself back into intentional reality, to help keep you strong through all of your challenges and low points.
…
Not only do you hold the knife, but you also utter the incantations that drive the violent self-harm.
People are always the creators…or destroyers of their individual legacies.
So…
Will you become conscious of yourself?
Will you give yourself time to ask what life should look like?
Will you seek out the spikes in the heartbeats of your life?
Will you allow yourself to make who you are a priority over all other things?
Will you return and open your eyes?
Truth and Love, Reader.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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