Sprawling wide across the cold hard ground, I was awakened from my repose, awaiting for the next dose of goodness from reality- the fragmented fabrication of pixels. I knew I wanted more of it, my body craved for it, the inner me made the choice consciously. I was in full control when I made those little decisions that accrued into a giant pile of mess.

Every single fibre of me, my conscience, my muscles pushed me into waking up, doing the things that I chose to do but deriving nothing good from it. I knew it. I knew it all along. I knew it but I chose to ignore it. I knew it. I knew it. I knew it. I knew it. I knew it! 

“What’s the point?” a voice shouted right into my face which was painted with abject submission to the flesh and to the comforts of life. “What’s the point of knowing? Aren’t you just going to let it continue just the way you like?” my soul cocooned into a posture of defeat whereas my physical body was oblivion to all the voices regardless inside or out, it had its own mind, wanting satisfactory from the least effort put out.

Restrained, restricted but to no avail. I was enjoying these delirious ecstasies way too much, I knew I had to stop but my body wanted more, my eyes wanted more of those pixelated goodness, my curiosity shifted into other people’s lives rather than my own. I was losing my own self, not by chance but by choice, pure enjoyment and me.

“I have to stop.” I knew that. All along. “I have to stop. I have to…” Didn’t you…

“YES! I ADMIT IT! I ENJOY ALL OF THESE!” YES! GO ON! “I FUCKING ENJOY BEING USELESS!”

Doing nothing is rewarding, even if the reward is temporal, but it is continuous, almost relentless.

look back. how much time have you spent. The voice rekindled a spark deep down in my heart, a springboard to my restoration and recovery.

“This had to be a training all along…” I knew nothing about His plans, but I believe in Him. “Nothing but Your blood can wash away my sins, I want to be convicted and feel actual conviction, make my body believe in You again.”

Craving for more? Down below:
a million pieces
Too Good To Be True
Selling Away My Birthright.
battles, distortions, me.
GREATER
How to Build Momentum
Losing Momentum to Inertia

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