Opening the Reflexive Reflection

Hoja de helecho húmeda I’ve finally come to senses. This will never change. It stays as an open canvas. A carcass willingly receiving maggots. I can’t ask you to be participative. But I can ask you to communicate. I believe it is already happening. I actually want to believe that any communication with myself will become a dialectic phenomenon.
Yes. It’s happening now.

I finally, and unexpectedly, shared some words with someone about this. It can be what I want it to be and it will be. From now on I’ll accept it and stop all the whining and sobbing. Enough of that. Whatever this is, it is already. I’ll be bleeding it until it becomes a dry casket, cracking with each noise, each letter, each word, each symbol.

The phone has rang more than usual these last days. I suppose it has to do with me being awfully aware of my current availability.
It will end.

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