Re-birth

I want to kill myself.
No, not tie a rope around my neck and jump off a high stool or swallow a lethal doze of dangerous pills.

I want to kill my SELF.
My ego.
My urges.
My pride.
I want to trap it in a box and shoot a thousand bullets from the magazine of a revolver at it.

I want to shatter the Lego house I've built with my twenty-something years of ideas, paradigms, beliefs and conative compulsions and watch those bricks fly off in dozens of directions.

I want to break down the walls I've built around my fragile heart and clear the path for me, my soul, a fresh me, to explore and discover anew.

I want to die.
Die to assumptions. Die to presumptions. Die to foolishness. Die to pride.

Die to my twisted perceptions of what is and what is meant to be.
Die to my pointless reflections of what was and what could have been.

Yes.
I want to kill my SELF.
And, so help me God, when I'm reborn...
A supreme being will be born.
A being born into newness...freshness...light.
A spark of the divine that would culminate into fullness of life.

And from darkness...I'll rise.
From the murky waters of guilt and shame, and dry valleys of hurts and pain...I'll rise.
From the vice-like grip of sin and disgrace, and the evil road-traps that slow down my pace...I'll rise.

I'll rise into mastery.
Mastery of my whims and desires.
Mastery over my stupid youthful exuberance.
Mastery of my skills and talents.

Yes. To die wouldn't be a bad idea.
As long as I'm alive while I die.
Death in life.
Death to LIFE.
Suicide...but without horror and tears.
This suicide...would break my limits and fears.

Death, while I still have breath.
Through death...re-birth.

©Chinemerem
#PostIndependenceMuse