(Michael Prenosil- author, poet, public speaker, & human rights activist)
I come from unwanted stock, not a miracle of life. I come from a place not many truly survive. From a grocery store of human flesh ripe for the picking and sold to the highest bidder. A revenue stream for the private in an effort to sell the procreational dream. I have seen the divide between the life that was made and the one that was bought. The struggling who lay a heavy head, and those who wear the crown. “What’s to come will be.” I’ve heard a lot, implying that our lives are already decided by the universe or a Godly will. If this were so, then I shouldn’t feel lucky... or like I cheated death every day the sun hits my skin. I should feel like this is my path and I shouldn’t apologize that others have less. But I can’t help feeling guilty. Guilty for the mother or family that hopefully aches in my absence. Guilty for not wanting to feel dirty. Guilty for not having to fight in the shit with the rest of them. Sickened by all of the opportunity and options I’ve been offered with no real consequence. A subsequent divide indeed from the life that should have been me.
Determined to keep going, I’ve suffered a lot in silence. Not wanting to be a burden to others, I try to take in the “life” that’s been given to me, yet I fear that I am never enough. I fill up my time with people and possessions to show I’m not alone, so I don’t feel alone. I surround my life with “reasons” to be places, or “commitments” I have to keep, so I can’t crawl back in my prison that waits for me. The one I built and labored over to protect myself from a world of death, pain, and hatred. From and towards this plain of existence I inhabit. A tiny infraction of an exponential universe like a seed floating to nature's new home. How could I ever find peace in this place?
All my accomplishments, all my dreams, the things I care about, and the ones I care for- could it be by design? Is the purpose to follow the prenoted composition and to sing the melody of its composer day in and day out, paying homage to accept this is it? No, I don’t believe this is me. I don’t accept these terms of decay. I reject the pressing future and demand to be seen. To be heard and understand that the past is not the beginning. To forge my existence and shape what remains. To let down my guard and set aside the key. To undo some of the torture that I’ve held so close to me.
This life is now my journey, vulnerable and free
Expressing truth with every word
Exploring the depths of what I couldn’t see
An unbridled reach for meaning, a binding decree
To tell my story proudly
And share what it feels like to be me
In hopes you’ll do the same
Sharing your gift of knowledge
Complete with stories and beliefs
Changing this place for the better
By giving us something to read
Find out more about the author, Michael Prenosil Here.
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