PROCESS

OF DESTRUCTION

I never thought of myself as all that extraordinary. My surroundings were always in the eyesights of the crowd but never me. This never really bothered me, I don't mind observing what walks and breaths in front of me as I feel a sense of connection to the silence that lies between me and society. In this silence lies the most overlooked of things, the feeling of longing, of desire, of hunger. Humans crave, they constantly crave and while most don’t notice we are quite cannibalistic, just waiting to be devoured by what picks underneath our flesh. Is it pulling you apart? Is it ripping at your insides? What consumes you in the quietest hours of the night? This is what I observe. I pay close attention to the things that grab and dig into another finding beauty in its process of destruction. Which is why I can tell I am in the process of mine. 

My process of destruction has been in the works for a while now, not that I have a deliberate plan on how I will do this nor am I making one but for a few years now I have been on a path of self destruction that I have not cared enough to stop. I’ve been aware of this, yes, but why haven’t I done anything? This is a question I often ask myself. Do I crave this feeling? Is that why it’s so intent on living inside of me? And I think I do endure this pain. To some that’s insane, letting something pick and pull at you for so long that you suddenly lose sense of all sanity. But to me, this is a memory I dwell in, a memory of a feeling that so greatly consumed me, a memory that I no longer have left. So thus continues my destruction and thus continues my longing. My head stays scrambled and still I observe the skin of strangers that linger in the corners. 

Y.M.R