shadow of the heart I-III

Looking back I was always afraid of my imperfections. Afraid of the conditional love I lived under, I squirmed in my ragged skin. Pockmarked on the outside, blemished on the inside. Predisposed for chemical imbalances, in accepting my fate I made it a reality. I felt skewed and broken, a cloud of darkness wrapped in layers of pale olive skin. I took silence as a bad thing, afraid of the thoughts formulating in the observer's eye. I kept half of me hidden in shadow, afrad what the light would reveal. Afraid to be myself because I'd be lonely. No one would stay once they knew how I could really be. And what was that? I was no devil, no schemer. I had no dark thoughts that merited scorn. I was nothing that needed hiding. Yet I was concealed; I was living a masquerade of generic precedences. I can't remember the reasons I convinced myself with. Looking back, it all seems so silly. Hidden in a caccoon of my own trepidations, I was waiting for someone to break me open, unfurl these sleeping wings woven with hidden gems and crystlized beauty.
My advice to you all: find someone that you can be 100% yourself with. It is the greatest feeling in the world.

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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 ...

Life unfolding

Unfolding Like petals, new to the world Tired of crouching and hiding within protective walls. Bursting forth in response to the warmth of sunlight and community. The unfolding of a heart is uncomfortable work. No longer used to my dimensions, I bump and bash Graze delicate edges against the roughness of a new world. bruise petals as I dance through the days. The morning are toughest As I attempt to reopen my raw and reeling regalia Until the sun soothes the edges and I can relax once more Easing into each new day, Alight on the breeze. With new aspects to myself awakening, I catch the eye of new creatures animals insects and fellow flowers alike. It's exhilarating. Exhausting. To engage in a new age Edges expanding, This is evolution.

Maggot Brain

I am filled with the feeling of too much to do, but when given the time all I can accomplish is looking back at these blog entries with a detached sensibility. I am removed from them now. Peculiar, how these words remain fixed here, memories I would rather forget. But I am now wet with memories, soaked in ancient feelings I thought had shriveled away in the sun. One thing struck me was my way with words. It has always been a talent, but I exercised it more in adolescence. Now the muscle is weak and the words are hard to lift from my mind to this page in any way worth telling. I need to stop telling myself that. Evolution is inevitable and I have been changed by this passing of time. I am fascinated with progress, with the slow steady growth of each individual. Sophistication, intelligence, ever shifting dreams and schemes. But there is always an essence that remains unchanged. The spirit which guides us to who we want to become through time and space. I am happy now...

rude awakenings

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