I have been doing the same thing for so long that I stopped noticing it was no longer a choice I could still unmake,
I have been doing the same thing and calling it consistency when the honest word for it would have been something closer to fear of failure wearing a familiar coat,
I have been doing the same thing in the same order, at the same hour, and telling myself that the rhythm was proof of discipline rather than the shape of avoidance,
Is the reason I keep returning to this the same old pattern actually because it is working or because I have forgotten how to imagine a morning that looks different from this feeling of uneasiness,
I have been doing the same thing and the world outside kept changing and I stayed in my private loop and told myself I was the much more steady one...
I have followed the complete guide long enough that I can no longer locate the moment I agreed to let it govern me even to my limitations,
I have followed the complete guide and nodded along and called it wisdom when what it really was is someone else's answer to a question they never asked me if I can,
I have followed the complete guide and dressed the obedience in words like craft, process and method so the compliance would carry a much more dignified name,
When did I stop testing my limitations whether any of this still applied to who I am now and begin just trusting it the way you trust gravity without ever checking if you will ever float,
I have followed the complete guide so thoroughly beyond faithfully that somewhere along the way, I became more of a student of the rules than I ever became fully myself...
There is something in me I have never once questioned because it has always worn the clothing of a specific sense of identity,
There is something in me I have been defending in every room I entered before anyone even challenged it and I never once stopped to ask what exactly I was so afraid of losing beyond everything else,
There is something in me that arrived somewhere in those years I was not watching and quietly became the standard I hold everything else up against what was already present,
What would I even do if I stopped doing this and nothing fell apart the way I have been assuming it would for years now,
There is something in me that I have been calling mine for so long I cannot locate the thread that says where it ends and where I actually begin...
What if the opposite of everything I reach for first is the place where something truer and less rehearsed has just been quietly waiting for me to listen,
What if the opposite of my instinct is not the mistake I have been trained to believe it is, but the correction my own body has been trying to hand me down, what’s really meant for me,
What if the opposite of my plan I always make possible is the experiment I keep postponing because the outcome is not already catalogued inside something I have read before,
Am I holding on to the pattern because it still serves me, or because walking away from it feels like leaving behind the version of me that learned to survive,
What if the opposite is not a loss but the first sentence of a version of this life I have never had the nerve to fully start writing yet, because the life I keep protecting may be the very thing standing between me and the life I was meant to become…
Watchwords:
The compliance I dressed in dignified words,
Trusting it the way you trust gravity,
The habit wearing the clothing of identity,
Nothing fell apart the way I assumed,
The correction my own body kept offering...
Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..
As and will always be reminding you to dream:
