Repeating the same thing and expecting different results. Sounds like insanity.
But every time I expect the initial conditions to be different. I hope that a different butterfly will beat its wings this time and a different set of circumstances will throw a pebble in different stream. And that that stream runs into a different ocean and crashes upon a different shore and eats away a different cliff and a different house collapses.
It’s the same house that I keep re-making. The same bed I keep making. The same choices and beliefs and the same small lies I tell myself until I believe that this castle will stand against the storm.
How can I not learn to see what is right there in front of me. To listen to the voice in my head. To the voice whispering in my ear. To the chorus of voices all around me. They tell me to do different. They tell me to listen. They tell me stop pretending. To stop hoping.
They tell me all these things but I keep telling myself to continue being me and one day a different butterfly will beat its wings.