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I am a broken compass
I still wonder, am I controlling it or is it controlling me? Needing to be controlled to control. Needing to rebel to be rebelled against. Needing to seek to be seeked, Needing to trust to be trusted. But what If I’m not trusting or rebelling. What if I gave up on seeking. What am I then? A broken compass. Does the journey control me, if I don’t know where I am going in the first place? I thought I was supposed to have control. I thought I was supposed to be controlled.
The stars rise in the east, and move west across the sky. Am I supposed to follow them? Which direction am I supposed to go? I feel as though everyone else's’ compass is working fine, they all seem to be aligned correctly. But mine is broken, and I am deserted in a very copious place, with a million paths and a map I am supposed to somehow create myself. Right now, the map is merely a blank piece of paper, crumpled up, scarred with marks where ideas were abolished and paths were crossed out. They say you are where you’ve been. A hundred “ X’s” on paths and places I will never return to is who I am?
I feel as though my compass only works when I rebel, when I trust, and when I seek. It helps me cross paths out, erase ideas, it helps me lose hope, it helps me lose myself. Disappointment. The needle spins fast then, not landing in any direction. When I am not feeling, and when i am not living, the needle spins in a slow, constant speed. Seeking.. I will always be moving, but will I ever get anywhere with a broken compass? Will I ever get anywhere if I’m not living.
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