How To Begin.

Pick up where you left off, desperate alone broken pathetic wasted - pick up there.  Start from the most broken place you have ever found yourself in and embrace the inadequacy.  How can you restart if you never fully appreciate the lowest place you've existed?  You can't, because you'll be there again, and how will you react when that time comes?  If you've explored that place, you'll be stronger the next time you find yourself there, exhibiting those ugly pieces of you that exist only to be dismissed.

Up in the choir section, high above the rafters and the spaces where people will soon fill the seats of the auditorium, that's where her lowest low was.  Her point, the culmination of everything that made her mad inside of her coming out to create true and pure dissatisfaction with everything she had ever worked for or created in her life.  What an existence.  Tying her shoes up for one last performance, knowing in some part of her that only she can know that this would be her last time.  But how can you know that?  How can anybody be so sure of their plans working out the way they'd hoped?  Impossible is existing in a space where you and only you create and define your destiny, your current, your past.

Bodies file down the aisles into the seats and immediately set about opening their phones and the tiny computers they keep in their pockets and whatever other modern technical device can distract them from their current state.  "What the fuck is this sickness?"  It was beyond her, the fact that a person's imagination and thought process and company could simply not be enough for them to sustain entertainment.  That's exactly why this was her lowest place, she detested everything that she did not understand.  Anybody who did not think as she thought was not worth her time.  She was alone, wide awake in a sleeping world.  Unable to turn her thoughts off, unable to control her running mental commentary on every single situation that she witnessed.  Imagine her days.  Imagine her life.

Presently, she sits at home looking out the window of her office, contemplating that lowest low, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee.  She's delusional, the cup is empty.  She's alone, the house is quiet.  She's content, her life pieced back together starting from that seat in the choir section.  How lucky is she.  How lucky could we all be if we'd take a step back and rearrange, live - REALLY LIVE - our lives?  Why don't you divorce yourself for a moment, take a step above, and look at something other than your current surroundings and how you typically understand them?

Why not.  How to begin again.


Soundtrack:
Band of Horses - No One's Gonna Love You
Metric - Satellite Mind