The
chemical parrative in my life was beginning to become as consuming as my search
for the universal-definition. Once
college was over after a semester, I reached an impasse with my home life with
my mother and my father, and moved to the other side of town, where my brother
was sharing an apartment with his best friend. My family has always been a harshly passionate lot, and that
makes for one of two situations; absolute joy, or absolute trouble. My inability to be something, or somewhere,
in the middle comes from this, mi familia.
Sometimes, I pondered why everything
fell apart, as I sat inside clubs with the whiskey drink, and the ever-so-numb
sniffles. That was a puzzle I used to
try and figure out. My old personal
debates of the universe had not revealed something as pure as instinct yet,
even if it was desperate to bridge the gap between knowledge and purity. Purity I had a deep-rooted faith in, but it
was a failing practice. I was still trapped in the post-Faust definition of the
soul: that which cannot be defined is that which does not exist. I am ready to say that it did not fall
apart, my life demanded to change. I
needed to mix things up to push the boundary of what is what and when is
why. Since, as I said earlier, my mind
did not know what my body recognized, I simply put the torch to everything I
had known before, and started from scratch.
Like being reborn. I had learned
how to wipe out the past and start again.
I did not learn, however, how to bury the past. This continues to be a mixed blessing.
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