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My life had become a mirror of the can of vegetables sitting on the grocer’s shelf. No one asked what the motivation was behind the can’s being on THAT shelf in THAT grocery in THAT town. It simply was there and the shopper who picked it up wouldn’t question why it was there…the shopper, upon entering the store, merely assumes that the can is there to be purchased and then used. Only the present state and location of the can matters…and perhaps, to the cook or consumer, it’s future.
It’s funny, I suppose, my saying: “I am like the can of veggies on the grocer’s shelf.” But that is the truth of my self…of my existence. An unobtrusive being, there, not because of circumstance, but simply there because I was born. I can laugh now; at myself; at the wonder of what I am doing. Whoever thought that putting pen to paper and writing would be 'like opening an unhealed wound and letting the infected blood of misconception and lack of understanding run free to be replaced by the cleanliness of looking into and acknowledging fully what comes next based on the THERE that one has been to and lived through?' Certainly, not me.
Those are the good doctors’ words. I heard them, but…do they do me any good? I’ve no desire to dissect myself like an insect under a microscope. After all, I am alive and content to live as I am. Here because I am here, not because there is a history that, preceding the me now, requires investigation.
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"I'm a curbside prophet with my hand in my pocket and I'm waiting for my rocket to come." - Jason Mraz
"Conformity is the refuge of a stagnant mind."
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