The Bluebird Paradox # 5: Drowning in November Mud

Too often, our minds become the battlefield for good and evil, quickly turning into ground zero for self-sabotage. It’s a brain parasite, eating away our resilience like piranhas. This illusion of love and self-hate creates an abomination resembling a snake eating its tail—except there’s no rebirth, just the recurrence of resentment and regret. We feast on indulgence and self-deception, lying to our reflection, knowing that this cycle is poisonous. It’s perpetual and agonizing, yet we keep making these revolutions, revisiting the barren wasteland of false hopes, and returning home with nothing but destruction and toxicity, assuming we’ll achieve a different outcome. So, here we are again, ending where we started, in a place that feels uncomfortably familiar—lapping infinity.

Some of us love playing the same song on repeat because it’s our anthem, our identity, all we know. But deep inside, we each want something more...

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