Where do you root yourself? This is an actual question.
What tethers you to this world and to your actions, to the ways you interpret the internal dialogue and external monologues coming at you? Are you a sheet blowing in the wind, or a sheet blowing in the wind looking back upon itself?
The term "cognitive dissonance" seems, at least to me, to be a primordial state of the human experience. The barren problem of consciousness and self-recognition. To be aware of the denouement and yet continue breathing, hopelessly racing towards the void. Full motion to full stop. And yet here you are, continuing.
So we return to the question.
In any state of cognitive dissonance we find an excuse to face the frostbite of truth and indulge. So where does your inspiration lie? How do you write the manual to your iteration of the human experience? A being being or a knight in shining armor, come to save the day?
This may feel like a challenge, and perhaps it is, but the honest to god truth of the situation is that you are writing right now. This moment and that. You write in private and public, you scream, whisper, lisp, fumble and beam.
But the best part is your desire doesn't factor into it - how freeing! And from this ground zero everything can be driven by desire, flamboyant and righteous, to spread out across the wilderness of the mind, the story and presence.
So where does your desire lurk? Where does it blossom like a desert flower, shine in the inky night twisting on itself?
How do you traverse the page, line by line, emanating through your bones?