“…..be grateful!
Our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real”
-Hannibal lecter
The 3rd of July was yesterday, a Monday. The day in the week I was born, now, like a new birth of sorts. My first birth was a rather unconscious affair. This however is not the same. This is a more conscious occasion. More like a spiritual birth. And a lot different from any biological birth. For here, the confines of the womb are left behind but the umbical-cord cannot be severed. Some things will stay. Parents, friends, creativity, drugs, sex, disappointment. What can change however is the response to these factors that influence the way we live. What can change is the way we conduct ourselves with relation to people around us. What can change, is imperfection to perfection.
Perfection, a word that can be rolled in the mouth like good wine or a word that creates that hollow feeling of lust in the stomach. The single most seductive and enchanting quality to strive for. For perfection is beauty that cannot be discriminated against. For it has no fault. And without perfection we are nothing but mere mortals.
And I will evolve.
Control! Control! Such …a colorful word. A word to wear for it creates perfection. And we are born, but naked. Then again, some clothes don’t fit that well. And some clothes tear when one loses control and falls down.
Beware my friend, for you may lose your clothes and all of it too, by your own devices. Standing naked in public for them to see, but choose to ignore is not a very cheerful activity I’m sure. Control, it seems, shall have to be controlled.
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