Unconscionable truth what a sad story, while difficult to comprehend it’s still the truth. My utter truth. A sad sorrowful truth.
The undeniable reality of something that struggles to wrap around the vortex known as mind still is the truth.
Despite the struggle to digest it and understand, despite the harsh reality of it’s pain and the hollow depths of it’s sorrow the truth remains.
It’s my truth and my sorrow. It’s my grief and I worry it will become my tomorrow. Hollywood couldn’t write this script.
Even Bollywood’s fabulosity and extremities would grapple with a tale so tainted, so unearthing.
A tale that in essence is many tales.
A tale that intertwines, lives, karmas, reincarnations of incalculable multiplicities.
Why me? Why I? How do I wrap my brain around this story?
My story. Is this really my story? Perhaps denial will change the story.
If only I could deny away the story. Maybe I could lie away the story?
Maybe I could turn my back on this epic sad story and awake to a new lighter airier story? Maybe I could add to the story and change the story?
I could pretend and come to believe the falsehoods. I could talk myself into a different reality. I could wake at dawn and take on an aura from realms afar.
I could become another person and start at zero. I could deny it and fake it and create a new story. How is it even possible that this my story? How did I get caught up in this story?
Perhaps I should feel honored and special. It’s different indeed. My story is unique. No other with a tale so doomed from the start. No other could profess such a broken heart.
Not like this. Never like this. This is not a tale anyone on God’s green ripe earth could replicate.
Hardly imagine it or even begin to make it up. Just grappling with all of it’s oddities is chore enough. The meager hearted would be overcome, enveloped in all it’s sadness and despair.
The brave would not know where to begin to venture into such rapture. Even the most open minded would scurry in shock of such profound and disturbing truths.
Question the validity of it and my truth. I dare you. I’d be shocked if I shared and it didn’t in the least scare you. Or perhaps it would startle you.
It would certainly be unconscionable in your mind as it is in mine. It’s quite a stretch wrapping your brain around this one. This is no ordinary tale.
It’s full of heros and villains, lovers and gypsies, magicians and chameleons and sorcerers and stones. It wreaks in my bones. If only you had a drone.
I attest to the unwavering truth of the gruesomeness of this heart wrenching tale. Do I play the victim or do I portray martyrdom in all it’s glory?
Do I learn and excel? Or shall I crumble and fall? Do I elevate my awareness and catapult my Buddha nature? Now is the time for to me elevate my years of learning.
All of the lessons before taking shape in my own story. All of the tragedies of the tale drenching my pillow in rampant tears of sorrow. Grief stricken not wanting another tomorrow. It’s a tale I still don’t know how to tell.