Dead Weight: The Shedding Of The Burden

Oh, Observer, from the moment you drew your first breath in this realm, you began to bear it: your Dead Weight. The Eternal Comfort you left behind, yet this burden persists, shackling every tentative step into the unknown.

In your youth, the gift of clarity was bestowed upon you. You were certain of your desires and your dislikes. Your fascinations, now perhaps obscured, were once brilliantly illuminated. The path to your life's purpose slowly but surely unveiled itself.

But then, the gales of elder minds swept in, whispers morphing into a raging storm. 'Emulate your father and become a doctor.' 'A career in art will not sustain a family.' 'Take life seriously.' With each uttered word, the Dead Weight grew heavier, and your resolve withered.

In the conscious and the subconscious, the burden weighed upon your thoughts, actions, and decisions. And then, not a whisper, but a resounding cry: 'You're a weirdo; you shouldn't enjoy painting.'

You, young Observer, began to quiver in fear. Society demanded conformity, and you ached to fit in. You entombed all that was unique and peculiar within your subconscious and cast away the key. You longed to belong. You yearned to be accepted.

And so, the Dead Weight grew.
Now, you must confront this trial of the Human Experience.

Release your grip! Look, Observer! Unveil the voices lurking in the recesses of your subconscious, the ancient whispers and shouts concealed therein. Relinquish the reins of the Dead Weight. Listen to the long-forgotten voices, the hidden fascinations. Free yourself from the shackles of this burden. Cast the light of awareness upon the darkness and rediscover the singularity you once concealed.

You know your desires. You know your ambitions. You know your true life's purpose.

"But what will they all think if I abandon my stable job to pursue my passion?" you ask.

Fear not the opinions of others, for the Dead Weight is merely that—a weight to be discarded.

"But what will my friends say?" you inquire.

Fear not the judgment of friends, for they, too, bear their own burdens.

"What if I fail?" you wonder.

"Only he who kneels before the Dead Weight, he who never dares to try... truly fails," I replied.

And so, you paused. For the first time since I brought you to this world, you noticed the bloodied ropes clenched in your hands. Your eye widened in surprise.

"Have I truly been carrying this burden every day?" you asked

"Yes, child, you have," I answered softly. "Behold, Observer, the strength you possess."

"What is it, really?" you inquired, gesturing toward the burden that trailed behind you.

"The emotion that strangles all dreams. To you, it appears as an office—the place they convinced you was the sole viable option. The acceptable path. The way to assimilate. But look beyond that."

"Fear," you declared resolutely. "Fear of everyone else's thoughts about me. Insecurity."

"Yes," I concurred.

"I don't think I can bear it any longer," you whispered, your voice quavering

"Then don't," I urged gently. "Be consumed or be reborn, Observer. The choice is yours."

A moment of silence. The wind stirred the eternal field. You drew a deep breath. Within you, a battle of unparalleled intensity raged—a struggle for Self, a fight for you. A clash within.

"Then don't," I urged gently. "Be consumed or be reborn, Observer. The choice is yours."

Tears streamed down your face, your grip on the ropes tightened, knuckles white with the effort. Your heart pounded in your chest, an internal drum heralding the impending victory or defeat. The storm within threatened to consume you, and yet, you persevered. The earth beneath you trembled, as if mirroring your struggle.

Would you rise again, or would you succumb to the Dead Weight? I pondered.

And then, with a final, resolute cry, you unclasped your hand. The ropes tumbled to the ground beside you, as if in slow motion, each strand breaking free from the grip of the past. Your chest heaved, and you straightened your back, standing tall, bathed in the warm glow of liberation. Every fiber of your being brimmed with determination. You trembled, as if freshly emerged from the battlefield, yet triumphant.

And then, you spoke.
"I will seek the truths I have hidden within myself. I will unearth my authentic self. I will rediscover my individuality and embrace who I am. I will pursue my passion and fulfill my life's purpose."

The very heavens seemed to part before you, the sun breaking through the dark clouds, casting a celestial light upon your rebirth. You had transcended the chains that bound you, and with a newfound power, you stepped forward, unburdened.

And so, liberated from the Dead Weight, you commenced your journey. You overcame the second trial, not yet consumed by the human experience but growing stronger with each stride.

And I, who believed I had witnessed all there was to see, was astonished by the fervor that blazed within you.