Alacrity

Have I found solace and peace in my quest to my imagining of perfection? No. But maybe, just maybe I am on my way to it. 

Last night I felt sad. Not depressive, just upset. Something that will always upset me, but not overrule my entire existence. This morning I woke up in the best mood I could possibly be in, given the fact I was greeted by two spiders and I’m certainly not one for early rises. 

Post my usual porridge and hot water beverage, I feel somewhat great. It is Friday. I hold some dear memories from my last weekend enjoying MCM, which is my legitimate happy place. I consider myself to be in a wholesome relationship with my partner and lucidity in regard to my outer identity. 

During my early 20’s, I existed as a watered-down edition of my ‘sorta’ self – I was almost ‘there’ in my late teens; my fashion aesthetics, personality, approach to life’s occurrences and striving for confidence in challenging phenomenons that I am within my rights to dispute. 

I hadn’t fully completed my journey to self-contentment, as I hit 25 and was hit with an opposing realisation of self-contempt instead. Since then, I upped my game. I have an indisputable affinity for self enhancement. 

Your objectives are easier to achieve once you've experienced clarity of self concept. Your consciousness overwhelms you with such force, but you are also the only one capable of counteracting it's assault.

 I will never halt my determination to feel 'unrivalled' against my often frighting state of consciousness. Of course, I am aware I will never truly reach such heights, but I’d like the good days to overrun those times my inner demons come out to play.



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