White flag go up already, I have little left to give. Recovery isn’t restful – It’s the work that gets done after realizing you’ve ignored yourself too long. It is hell, and being the God of my own body it is difficult to find followers – like holy war inside my cells, heart, blood, synapses.
My body adapted like the world adapts to global warming – I have melted these ice caps too long.
The flood won’t be stopped
The casualties won’t be saved
There’s nothing more I can do
I cannot transplant the brain of an athlete, or a healthy, optimistic being meditating daily, feeling “Zen”. I’m a fighter, resolver, feeler, even masochist.
My anger is not yet quenched
My tears not yet quieted
My hurt not yet healed
I seek solutions outside of what I have pondered. My thoughts are too dangerous, my fire too hungry to be abated.
I can be made tranquil much like unbending magi in fantasy. All dreams will shut down, I will feel nothing but peace – The burden will be erased.
White flag now raised, I am ready for an intervention.