Multi-colored Sea Monsters
or thoughts to befriend or behead

To me, the commute is less a journey than a space in itself.
I no longer process it in segments. Ride a jeepney, get off at this point, walk, get on the train. Not anymore.
Do it often enough, and it turns into this kind of break that exists outside of your perception of space and time. This lull, this place, is where I speak with my mind and the many monsters that inhabit it.
This is the part where I stare at the computer screen for some period of time. Where I almost give up on this post because knowing where to begin, to really begin, is next to impossible, and begin anyway.
In my commute, I talk to Fear. The fear of not getting as much as I’m giving. I ask him why he exists.
I exist, because you ask for too much. You claim to lean towards practical asceticism, yet your soul asks for plenty. You claim to expect very little from people, yet you live in secret fear that those you put on a pedestal would fail to deliver.
Because you have seen magic with your own two eyes, and you have seen its imperfection. The magician is human, after all.
I ask Fear what it has to offer.
Foresight. Readiness. Motivation.
The foresight to stock provision. The readiness to react reasonably. The motivation to fortify the self.
Insight.
That you can do so much.
And that you can only do so much.
