The smell of many things burning...(and not a poem)

The breaking down of the self is sometimes an entirely unconscious act. You start it like a mindless child, fingering a toy, and you can continue absent minded on and on. You can do this while discussing the future, the world economics, while you decorate your home.
While you think you define yourself, the act of breaking down the self can be in full motion.

It is no ones fault but your own, despite whatever luggage you carry with you from the past.

Sometimes, the act of saving the self can come totally unconscious to you as well. Slipping in disguised as something else, or crashing down on you in the shape of a disaster.

Sometimes things have to break in order to create a clean space.
The act of rebuilding the self is never unconscious.
It requires a sharp razor of honesty
to own yourself again.
It is not an act for cowards.