Trying to hold on to my intelligence. In there is a deep wound. I can feel it. Holding up every single dream, never looking in the places which might threaten them, but never finding its most important element, that pervasive, true connection that stands through the lies. The one worth noting. But days like this, it's lacking. Seemingly the only way it manifests on these days is in terrible realization after terrible realization. The child I never had. The fragility of life and its responisiblity to stay strong. It never used to be like this - it used to be like looking at the world through beautiful eyes, lenses which pulled time through me as if light. Though eventually this manifested as an intelligence which was mind-blowing, a totally new environment. And now, the feeling it's being eaten, that I'm pulling around an intelligence not my own, but that could be confused with me, much less able than mine ever was, having to redirect its habitual reactions. I don't fear it, though it dreams my emotions the same way any tangible loss would. Acknowledging that as the loss that it is (not necassarily accepting it), at least works as a station to better frame your reality and better guide your actions.
In one dream, I held my daughter in my arms as animals surrounded me, trying to chew their way through my chest to her. In another, a clear lake where I breathed the water, found love, travelled through it, watched a portal send me to a time that ate its past self, leaving a hole that I was precariously balanced above.
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