Tabula Rasa

Imagine, everytime you feel life turning sinister, you could erase everything; take a brush and whiten the canvas, as though you could oversubscribe yourself.

This is what I always tried when I felt sad, when I felt everything went wrong. Everytime I sensed an approaching eclipse of my heart, I would play tabula rasa. I pretended I could delete all my fears and sorrows and restart with a bright smile, not thinking about anything that had torn me before.

For the most part, it went quite well. It somewhat provided a state of openness to head into new experiences. And, it somewhat captured me in an infinite spirale of nothing, a never-ending status quo of mind and emotions. Living in a perpetual reset mode appeared quite enjoyable, you could rush into risks and wouldn't need to fear to be hurt. Just push the button and you'll turn back, being a white page again.

But at some point I realized that all the dark colors I retouched would once take hold of me. The mailstroam that joyfully pushed me forward would devour me, tear me into the grave I buried all my fears in. The canvas would crack under the weight of the overlapping colors, and black strings would draw their lines through the apperently pure, bright surface, revealing the darkness behind.

The heart does not comply to the mind's wishes. I tried to hide it away, but can't seem to escape.

So I stopped rushing forward. I am turning back to see. And then, I will turn around again, to step forward slowly, but defintely.