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No sheep around. Yeah, figures..

‘Don’t do this’, confession sheep said. ‘Lose the attitude. I know what you are about to do, and we can do three things here,’ he said. ‘We can either have a discussion that will bring us nowhere. We can go in self-destruct mode. We can make the we an I and go our separate ways. Or.. and this one does not count because I said that we can do three things here.. we can just sit with it and experience.’

‘I know you,’ confession sheep said. ‘And you are more colorful than this, more color filled. I also know you feel you are more scrambled than this, right now. I know there are more sides to you than this. I know you feel someone twisted you all up -and down- and you can’t get your marbles straight again -or square. I know you. But I also know that last time you failed better. Do you hear me?’

‘Last time you failed better, I said,’ confession sheep said. ‘But you are not a effective produce of your past, it’s not the immediate consistency between poo scent and looking at your shit.. I mean.. why look back at what sewer material just came out of you? You flush and you leave. It just is what it just is, by the same logic that infertility is not hereditary.’

‘You flock for a reason,’ confession sheep said. ‘For a purpose. For a goal. For a story. And yes, also for pain. For if your wings are clipped, it causes pain, and birds of a feather flock together. But your wings are not clipped, you are not a bird, you are a sheep, and right now you feel sheeped.’

‘I know. I really do. And I know. You will get over this. For this is just a fragment,’ confession sheep said.

‘I know you talked about your blue Fridays. I know you would like to arrive when the color is green. I know the red disturbs you. It disturbs you constantly, as if it looking you in the eye to the point that you cannot see anything else but red. Looking at you. But it needs to be here too. Because you need to learn.’

‘I know,’ confession sheep said. ‘I know it reminds you of blood. Cornered blood. And that by association you see it pushed aside. As if it is not allowed to exist.’

‘Stop it,’ confession sheep said. ‘I know where you want to go with this, I will not have it. I will take over if you don’t stop it.’

‘Did you hear me? I will take over.’

And so he did. When there is a sudden amputation of a leg, a person can lose it, literally, figuratively, he can lose it without any pain. Pain just gets too high. Boiling water can’t get any more boilier once it is boiling. The same goes for pain. Once it reaches a threshold, you are done. Same goes for emotions. Once you reach a certain level of internal pain, things just shut down. We silenced. And we saw confession sheep fumbling or handling this colored square.

He tried eyeballing it on his side.

Then he kissed it on its side.

He tried breastfeeding it.

He tried changing the colors.

Then he tried making the colors disappear.

And he almost succeeded.

‘But I am not like you,’ confession sheep said. ‘Unlike you, I confess. You shy away, you become silent, you hide. I confess. I confront. I expose.’

‘And I will guard this fragment of your painful imagination..’

‘.. until you see that the red in your heart has changed position.’

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