Sunrise below Moonlight

Sunrise below Moonlight

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WpMetadataReadOngoing2h 8m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Tue, Dec 3, 2019
Heads or tails? That's always a tricky one... I'll choose head's this time around. There's a 50-percentage chance that it may backfire, but if I don't try it, how will I know? Talking about fire I use to own a Zip lighter once, well... I still do but it's gone, somewhere. I used to love holding it in my hand and playing with it, opening the lid, closing the lid shut, even passing my finger through the flame, just to feel what it felt like. Luckily, I never burnt my finger, yet, touch wood. Back to where I was, oh yes, the coin, but which coin? That's another good question, see the bigger the coin the longer it takes for the coin to rotate, but with weight and gravity, it gets pulled down faster, till it hits a surface. Sometimes it's in my pocket, other times I've lost it, sometimes I get short changed, but there's always options and It takes time to accumulate. Dear you must be confused, well it is complicated... but by that chance I took, a chain of events arose. Call it a purse or a wallet, it still has the same purpose, to obtain a currency of value, by landing flat out, light as a feather, heavy as a burden, coins don't flip themselves, do they? You see how I switch from one to the other? Maybe I could juggle, balance from one to the other, but what is the purpose. To take a chance, or did I take a chance, Past tense to present tense. That coin didn't flip itself... but where did it land?
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#258
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Sometimes, I feel like I was designed not to live - but just to survive. My brain doesn't crave joy, meaning, or legacy - it just tries to prevent crisis. It calculates food, money, safety. It panics. It runs. It hides. And somehow... it keeps missing life. I've spent years trying to understand why my mind behaves this way. Why it imagines catastrophes while standing still. Why it avoids the simplest task. Why it overthinks even brushing teeth, but can ride a cycle for 100 km in the rain without blinking. One day, when I was still, completely still... with no task to distract me... this strange feeling overtook me. The thought that maybe - just maybe - I am not supposed to design my own purpose. I looked up. And I said, silently: "God... if You made me this way... if You crafted this restless, impulsive, chaos-driven machine of a brain... then You must know where I fit. Use me. Don't let me rot in guilt and survival. Don't let me just float. You know this universe in ways I never can. You know every corner of it. So You must know the one place where this exact wiring of mine can become meaningful." This wasn't surrender from pain. It was surrender from trying to control something I've clearly never understood. I don't need peace. I don't need success. I need to be used. Fully. For something only this kind of life, this kind of mind, could contribute. If I am a tool, let me build something. If I am a flame, let me burn where light is needed. But don't keep me in the dark asking, "Why me?" Maybe I wasn't built to ask. I was built to be assigned.

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