Tired of Pretending

I’m tired of living in a way that denies the truth of my soul. I’m tired of closed relationships that imply that love is possessive and conditional. I’m tired of jobs at companies whose sole purpose is making money – and I’m tired of pretending that money should have any place whatsoever in an evolved society. I’m tired of these nearly universal concepts of ownership that force people to pick tiny bubbles of the earth to inhabit, that make it nearly impossible to roam wild and free.

I’m tired of pretending that I need anything more than the wilderness, my soul, and a few good friends to live a fulfilled and passionate life. I’m tired of pretending that the concrete and the garbage, the noise, the pollution, and the tears don’t cut me deep and make me want to run away. I’m tired of pretending that I don’t sometimes feel the urge to disappear into the forest and commune only with the wolves and the trees – or that it doesn’t make me angry when I realize that even the rivers, the streams, and the plants to sustain us are too contaminated for such a simple retreat.

I’m tired of pretending that I don’t know better than these ridiculous dualistic ideas about sex – that it’s either a form of entertainment or something that must be accompanied by commitment, both of which come down to fear, rather than an unconditional, sacred, spiritual expression of love. I’m tired of pretending that it matters what my clothes, hair, makeup, or body looks like just because society says it should – or that beauty requires the alteration of what naturally is from one moment to the next.

I’m tired of abiding by these notions of love that are completely backwards. I’m tired of pretending that loving someone means making them feel comfortable rather than challenging them when it’s necessary. I’m tired of pretending that love means putting myself last rather than acting in a way that honors the One in the many, equally and simultaneously.

I’m tired of commitments, in millions of forms, attached to everything from who powers your phone to where you live, which way you’ll vote, or who your partner will be in ten years. I’m tired of pretending that these are a sign of responsibility and maturity; I’m tired of pretending that I don’t know that the exact opposite is true, that the very concept of a commitment is based on a denial of the truth that all things can and should be free to change, to evolve, to take as many paths as they can rather than sticking to just one.

I’m tired of pretending that it’s okay to follow these rules just because breaking them might trigger or frighten others, of pretending that every cell of my body doesn’t now rile against the idea of the good paying job with a nice house in a quiet neighborhood, one lifetime romantic partner with two and a half kids and just enough vacation time and toys to make it feel alright. I’m tired of pretending that happiness is so rare and dependent that it must be carefully tended like a vulnerable little sprout in acidic sand, and then protected and held – or that there are specific prerequisites that must be met for it to be obtained, ironically that tend to cost as much as they earn in both time and pleasure.

I’m tired of pretending that I can’t see the understanding tempered by fear in the skeptics’ eyes. Most of all, I’m tired of protecting these illusions in others. I’m tired of pretending that being kind means abiding by these rules at the expense of my own happiness as much as theirs, coddling the delusions rather than being the trigger that helps destroy them. I’m tired of doing things that make others smile but that do nothing to free them or myself from these invisible chains that we’ve all been handed without question upon entrance to this world.

I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of acting like I’m this skin, when in truth I’m limitless, eternal, creative freedom. I’m tired of pretending, so now I’m breaking out from within.

©2017 Cristen Rodgers