Worry

I'm only bound by the chains I choose to carry. I'm burdened by the weight I choose to bear. I worry and choose to worry.

Louis Aragon once wrote, "Light is meaningful only in relation to darkness, and truth presupposes error. It is these mingled opposites which people our life, which make it pungent, intoxicating. We only exist in terms of this conflict, in the zone where black and white clash."

So, I suppose this inner conflict of holding on and letting go is similar to any battle, as Aragon says, "intoxicating." Perhaps my history of ups and downs, depression and mania, are somewhat of a rush, reinforcing, exhilarating. Perhaps that is why I see this time of sadness as a chance to explore myself and all that is within me. I look around and I see bits and pieces of my past, fragments of creativity, beauty, and hope entwined with pain, heartbreak, and blood. This is who I am. I am not "emotional" in the sense that a disturbing movie makes some sick to their stomach - I enjoy the suspense and thrill of something dark and psychological. My mind takes some sort of pleasure in pain, why else would I dwell in it? What is it about pain that forces me to return to this place? Why do I stay? It hurts, it makes me despise myself, it makes me want to weep...why do I stay? And more importantly, why do I feel more like myself, my inner self, when I allow myself to hurt?