And now I will explain to you how I destroy myself, and in so doing, destroy love. I start at my age, down to the day, and then run through the catalogue of successful people in my brain and stop, but do not linger, on their monumental accomplishment and then I do the math and place myself where I was at that exact age, to the day, in my life. While I do not linger on the monuments, I linger, am still lingering, on my lack of monument and achievement and thus, I’m not living, and not living, I cannot give or accept love.
This might seem inconsequential, but view each self perceived failure as a seed in my fecund mind. See the way they are buried in my sub conscious and that roots are stretching just this way and that. When I sleep, I explore these roots, but I do not report back to my waking self. I let the seeds blossom and the harvest is bountiful. At the end of the day, as the sun fades and the evening turns purple, I’m exhausted by my riches: passive aggression, accusatory moralizing, a toxic certitude. Look upon my riches and behold: isolation and fear, twin anathema of love.
This is but one way in which I destroy myself.