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 ...

zip.

I dread human contact. I absolutely hate it. I hate having to think of something to say, hate having to feign interest and sympathy. It's a stressful situation and I don't even know why. I guess it's the culmination of all my antisocial tendencies over the years. Once you get into a habit it gets harder and harder to change as time goes by. I've always been the shy one, the quiet one. The exception is my friends. I'm talkative and at ease with the people I like. I love my friends and I love having friends, but I dread making them. It's like it's too much effort to be worth it. All the awkward getting to know eachothers and stuff, I'd rather just avoid it completely. But it's getting me into trouble. People think I'm arrogant, too good to talk to them. Or that I hate them. Such is the case with my mother. She's been living at her parent's house, and so I rarely see her. That suited me fine, because less interactions the better. So whenever...

Home

I looked back at blog entries, and even though the subject matter was less than pleasant to be reminded of, it was still good, I'm glad I have written reminders so I have points of reference to gauge my growth. And I've come far. I often feel like I've had three stages in my life. The first was with Brent, and though I was a newborn in love's eyes, I soon grew to an extremely old age. My heart was always cracked and my spirit became dulled. I became clogged with darkness, became tired and dragged myself through the days. But I never stopped. I stubbornly sacrificed myself each day for someone whom I thought it was going to help. I was wrong. The first day of my second stage was the day I stopped caring about him and finally focused on myself. I was free, and I was drunk with it. Too drunk. I dove into something that made me happy, too quick. I soon realized there were other ways to get hurt. this stage wasn't that defining, though I began to learn to take things as ...

rude awakenings

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