I can't contain myself

The same emotion is rendered every time, a feeling of subtle panic, of hopelessness. Maybe it's only confusion. How can they all be content in their situation? It all looks so hopeless. Yet they put on a facade of indifference, a tough outer layer. I have no desire to crack it, to glimpse the vulnerable inner layers, it doesn't concern me. so i remain transfixed by the hard surface, wondering, but never wanting to know. Everyone's so engrossed in their own lives, bundled in their inner layers, where it's warm and familiar. I'm not comfortable there. I'm despondent, standing in a hallway. Everyone has found a room, a place of solace, yet I am hesitant. My feet are rooted through the hardwood in a callow lack of confidence, merely a feeling of jejune aversion yet it has grown so thick in my soul that the emotion is all I know, all I am comfortable with. I'm sabotaging myself, my mind body and soul. The winds of time are eroding me. I am a hollow vessel, waiting to be filled but hesitant to losing myself. Afraid of failure, of inadequacy. I'm insipid and inept. All my life I've depended on others, was never shown responsibility, trust or freedom. Now everyone is depending on me, for varied reasons. This I can handle. But now I'm forced to depend on myself, there's no one to help me anymore. I've entered a whole new room, and the door has shut behind me.

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neighborhood nights

I feel like somewhere along my life there was a shift. Suddenly nothing was for fun any more, it was all necessary. Suddenly I'm bothering with what others think, afraid to link any connotations I deem negative to my being. Why do I care what people I've never met, who'll forget they ever saw me, think of me; this obscure stranger in their peripherals. It's a warped sense of mind and place, seeing the space around me in my mind's made up ways. So I stray away from everyone, isolating myself unwittingly, turning them against me. Self fulfilling prophecies, I succeed in creating this reality. I need to break free from my mind's mentalities, with which negativity has propelled me. So I've started a new sport. I call it neighborhood night dancing. Donning headphones and heading out alone to the empty streets as the city sleeps, and moving to the beat. Letting it compel me towards a freedom long gone missing. Letting go is an art. Complete release is a tough ...

enter the struggler

Don't give up. I'm only starting to see the gravity of your situation. the extent of your damnation. In short I don't blame you for your frivolous disposition. I blame myself for not being enough to change it. That came out wrong. I can't, nor do I want to, change you. I just wish I was insentive enough to make you wish to change. Or maybe change is non-existant. I want you to grow. You're playing a static and stagnant role whilst I am flourishing and thriving. I know I'm not the same as I was when we were first in love, but the change is amplified relative your inert stance. I've always cared about you, but that too has been altered by the hand of circumstance. I've known countless feelings for you, attachment, love, lust, caring, anguish, concern. I've always felt something for you. Now it's stronger than ever before. No more silly juvenile notions of "love". I care for you like a sister, a mother, a lover, a friend. You say you don...

ecotone

Instead of mindless expansion we should be expanding our minds. Finding solutions to stop our pollution, to reduce our waste. But we all chase after money and pointless things. Thinking they'll bring us happiness, or self worth. But it's the earth that pays for all the shit we throw away. Make take use, and it's garbage in just a day. But it doesn't just disappear. It's all still here, clogging the Earth's pores with eyesores of giant piles of trash. Every last diaper you've ever crapped in, is still trapped in a landfill. and it'll still be there long after we're gone. Where did we go wrong? When did we split off the evolutionary tree and plant ourselves in the soils of skewed priorities? Working to stay alive, working our nine to five as if the blood that fills our veins is made of money. And I find it funny, when we need air to breathe and this is supplied by trees, we clear cut our forests to build up our factories. We make junk to make a buck, b...

rude awakenings

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