Being eaten alive and the desire to be consumed
In a world where humans fight so hard to avoid being eaten, I desire to be marinated and steamed, so that life might relish consuming me. However, I do not feel that way. I feel rotten. Life took a bite, rejects my flesh, and my blood is scattered everywhere.
Even as I pause to catch my breath, the Earth’s relentless spin around the Sun mocks my feeble attempts at control. I fear that I might lose my chance. I am still clinging to the hope that life will eventually reward my perseverance, that the universe will finally align in my favour.
I can’t seem to surrender and embrace the inevitable. I’m still looking for this newfound freedom. I know that maybe life is not about chasing after the elusive ‘good’ that life promises, but about finding contentment in the present moment, the raw, unfiltered experience of being alive.
But, the rot within me, the blood spilled upon the Earth, is still a testament to my failure, and also, by some chance, a testament to my courage. A defiant act against the forces that seek to consume me, a refusal to be defined by fear or despair.
Be that as it may, I hope it won’t matter whether I am eaten or rejected. Because I know that in the act of living, of experiencing the full spectrum of human emotion, I have already triumphed.
