Coiled & Caged

Throughout my life, I've always been the outsider. The other. 

It didn't matter which crowd it was, family, musicians, filmmakers, writers, and so on, I could never feel that I truly belonged anywhere at all. I've always been a musician with writer proclivities, a writer with a musician's heart, a filmmaker's eye, and a poet's lyrical brevity. I've been a philosopher in times of action, and an catalyst in times of philosophy. 

I am the loyalist in the land of betrayal, the illicit affair in the corridors of the faithful, the voice in the silence and the silence in the crowd. I am the elegance in the filth and the filth in the elegance. A contrarian traditionalist and the classical revolutionary.  

I've always felt half engaged, half distracted for most of my life. Each moment brings idea upon idea, worlds upon worlds, where the future is infinite. I never can settle into the moment, because the future is appearing before me each moment. Instead of what is, I see probability, potentiality, and the way things could be.                  

Something always moves within me that keeps me from mentally sitting still. It rages still, even though I've learned to disguise it. It's a deep and raging passion for life, for feeling, for creation. For that, I exist; and very little else. 

I've always known this, yet I've chosen to forgot about it for the means of survival. Yet, even in those moments, I've walked through life, seemingly loose and happy, when, at the depths, I'm coiled and caged. I built the prison and I'm only one who can eventually let myself out. 

The decision, our decisions, are ultimately no one but ours.