where is the horse i was meant to mount?

it appears that, whatever predilection i have to eagerly pen thoughts have vanished. suddenly. but my head is aching thoughts of wanting to be this, and exceeding these and those. of losing the will of pretense because you perceived it ample. i dug and dug but i see that the root of wanting is buried deep not in what we used to think, but in the deep recesses of our past and of the little ways we shape our personhood. it cannot be easily unturned, slapped to consciousness, overpower in all its weakness, and scratched where it is most superficial. the core, all sacred, must be deconstructed and only then can it let go of some hurtful repression. if it is to be freed along with our longing for the sincerest peace, then it is a must not to give in easily to the dictates of our prejudiced perspectives.