On D-day

One and a half glasses of wine later, on one of the most (secretly) monumental days of my entire adult life. – unedited

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15 hours later I wrap everything up, get the chores done, all prepped for another day, another week. I made sure not to deviate from my routine. I did exactly the same things at the same time.

Today was the day I finished what I started. Perhaps what I started, years before this one. Yet it is only the beginning of many more years, decades of hard work. A small end. Nonetheless, a finish line.

I think I know where I’m going. I’m going to a place where I can burn myself up, where I can make myself useful.

I’m going toward a place of worship, where I worship not with animal sacrifices, but with my own life. A living sacrifice.

Where I worship with the choices I make throughout the day, from the moment I wake up in the morning until I go to sleep at night.

But actually, the choices I make mean nothing. My philosophy, discipline, my ‘love’, my ‘sacrifice’, don’t mean a thing on their own. Only in the context of the one whom I worship will those things have any meaning. The tree and the branch.

I sense my own emptiness. Mixed feelings negating each other, dragging me into a vacuum. I already knew it meant nothing. I just pretend it’s something. I do want to make it mean something, but deep down, I don’t like what that kind of path requires of me.

I am a walking contradiction. But I gain relief from the fact that no one knows how to be otherwise.

I’d like to congratulate myself tonight despite all my shortcomings. Because I. Because I tried and I exerted myself. Because it did feel like exertion.

I embrace the emptiness which I anticipated weeks before. Anticipation itself does not in any way protect me from the subject of that very anticipation. It’s okay, I anticipated this also.