prose

Miscible

There truly is a sense of clarity and calm in the middle of all the brooding, scratching, amplifying throes. It is that small speck of rational thought—the true breadth of the situation not the one that you quickly imagined—that tiny cusp of infinite possibilities converging to reveal the honest spectacle of that reality. It is when you realize that you actually compartmentalize a lot of what you experience and process in your life that the whole world—your world—starts to shift on what seems to be a marginal angle, but is really of the consequential sort. That your boxes of life—family, academics, work, friends, relationships, and all in between—are all meant to overlap, mingle, meld into each other —like the molten wax suspended in lava lamp—before it can separate again into more suitable shapes congruent with the current version of yourself. You truly find yourself appreciating the fluidity of the mind to accept and forgive all of your sharp edges, each side being smoothed out over and over again into something more merciful than before.

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2 thoughts on “Miscible

  1. Wow!!!! Written so well in such a Cila manner. I am so glad to see this emerge. And if you don’t already have a lava lamp (I do!) I will get you one. We will need to talk colors.

    Liked by 1 person

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