The discomfort of misalignment

Nothing compares to not agreeing — feeling that tenuous rise as if the world is about to cease existing.

The dynamic of resistance, defensiveness build up on top of a fragile ego struggling to assert an opinion or god forbid be wrong.

We waltz into the tension misguided by its allure as a means of domination not accepting its humble sacrifice to forge us anew.

The only virtue bends its will claiming our expectations clashing against fiery desires that fulfilled we fail and unmet we fail too.

No sense in agreeing really if anything the premise renders every conversation mute. Every dialogue useless. And in the great normalization of everything we die.

The fruit of misalignment only nourishes when it’s allowed its course in the discomfort, questionable tactics to escape, and the death of thought in the rise of a new moment pristine and mature.

Until the next ❤️ beat ~.~.~