METAMORPHOSIS

I no longer fit inside my own life.

The seams are taut, fraying. The stitching tears. I’m a snake outgrowing its skin.

This feeling is not new. My life has been characterised by violent evolution. Every five years I burn everything to ash and attempt to rise like a phoenix. New city, new career, new identity. Each time I leave myself raw and exposed, pink and sensitive like the snake in its fresh skin. Each time I prove I can build something from nothing.

And each time I swear it will be the last.

Because the pattern is obvious now. Serial self-immolation is not a strategy for success. Real progress requires time. Talent and effort matter, but longevity is the ingredient I keep omitting. You can’t build an empire if you raze it every half-decade.

So I’ve tried to anchor myself. Cut off options. Build momentum.

But with the return of this restlessness, it seems that my soul is a soul that refuses to be shackled.

There’s a voice inside me. I consult it. It tells me how the next chapter of my story needs to unfold. It’s a temptress. It tells me to move to the next thing. And like Eve hearing the serpent’s whisper, I cannot resist. Logic doesn’t work against it. Nor reason.

I wonder if I have free will or if the story is pre-planned?

There’s no option but to listen to the voice. My attempts at stasis: futile.

Now we’re at the part of the piece of writing where the tension is obvious. The tension I’m trying to resolve through writing, through thinking.

I want stasis, consistency, momentum. But the violent restlessness remains and I can’t ignore that inner voice or the feeling that I’m outgrowing my skin.

Now the question is not whether I will transform again (that much is certain). The question is whether the next evolution will destroy me or elevate me.

And as I write this I think I may have a solution.

Perhaps the force inside me is not my enemy. It is my nature.

And that violent restlessness could be seen as energy to be harnessed.

Perhaps it could be ridden like a rogue wave or a wild bull?

And each evolution could be an elevation.

Perhaps the burn-it-all-down approach of my youth was just naivety and inexperience.

And the next evolution is more akin to a delicate snowball transforming into a catastrophic avalanche.