The Great Manipulator

Friday morning. 

It was an unimportant Friday morning when I noticed my mind is keeping me hostage.

The first draft of the previous sentence was: 'It was a great day when I was shocked to realize the powerful hold my mind has on me'. And that's the problem. Am I using MY mind to work MY fingers and type MY thoughts and feelings? Or am I being used by my mind to write grandiose sentences. Make gigantic general assumptions. Make sense of things based on comfortable notions of the world, stay safe, have my nice beliefs, stay stuck in my bubble of 'how things work'.

Magnificence in eloquence so that he will admire me, she will accept me, he will care about me, she will love me.

Bullshit...

I have a powerful mind. Yey me. Not in the sense of its great and historious assumptions. Most of them are admittedly and obviously not helpful. But on its incessant working. I valued that, growing up. Always curious and excited to find out how things work. But my mistake was cementing whatever stipulation was concluded. Sure some inferences are right. This is how to problem solve this and that. But others have constructed a jail so genius. A jail I don't know I'm in. A jail I cannot see. A jail I'm trying to escape from.

A jail I put others in...

I want company. I desire affection. I hope for camaraderie. So I took by the hand my mind, my self, my friends, my lovers. And we all pondered on how and why we feel we only exist in a constrained square-space. One of them, is suspect. And I feel (not think) it's my mind.

The great manipulator.

So I feel Friday afternoon I'll hate my mind. But my mind is a part of me and hating any part of me, hating anything really, may be just another modus operandi of its.

So I'll not hate it. But I'll surely observe and disagree when needed. Pull from the archive tried and tested thoughts, when confronting a flat tyre, a troublesome piano passage, a scary composition, a tricky recipe. Ignore thoughts that are just wrong, however convincing, when valuing myself, when talking to a pretty girl, when thinking anything about an ex, when staring at the face of new experiences.

Oh the great manipulator. How maniacally it's trying to protect me. Using the rotten morality my silly ancestors provided. In their attempt to protect me as well. This much protection is death. This much fear, sacrificing the innate lust for life's oxygen, on a false altar of protection, is indeed suffocation.

How humbly I realize I've used all the wrong tools. They, it. It, me. Me, them. A circle of manipulation and for what? We all end up hurting and hurt.

Friday night. Responsibility. I've been an asshole. I've tried to not be. And I've tried to be. I've been an asshole to my family. To my friends. To my lovers. To myself.

It was my fault. I've used my mind wrong.

Saturday morning. 

I've got a powerful mind. 

It's going to be a battle for the ages.

P.S.

I'm scared shitless all of the above were just another strategy and scheme of its. Another rationalization. It's ok. Just observe. Tell the fucking truth. Feel first, then think. Tell the truth! Keep going to therapy. Workout. Eat right. Sleep well. Write the music. Go to that date. And above all. Tell. The. Truth.