Thoughts Into Words

These days,  Death seems sweet. 

       There I sat, on the ground in front of the perfectly good bench any normal person would've been sitting on. Instead I'd planted myself in the dirt, letting my back rest against the seat as my skin soaked up the warm sunshine. I was hoping the ground would help me feel—well—grounded during my attempt at running away from the pathetic problems that seemed to plague me.         The view from the ground offered me a new perspective on the modest pond and thick forest that I was hoping would distract me.        I hugged my knees to my chest and clutched my book, keeping it closed tight so the torn pages of well-loved literature wouldn't leave me to dance in the abandoning breeze. The trees swayed, the water rippled, and I closed my eyes hoping to be swept away with the wind too.        When I was ready to accept reality again and begrudgingly opened my eyes, you were there. As if you appeared out of nowhere, having arrived as swiftly and as naturally as anything else

Someone once asked me if I believed in magic . . . I believe there’s magic in that first  descent of  gracefully glistening snowflakes  in the prelude to a storm. There’s magic in the twinkling lights of the night sky when you find yourself tangled up in the tapestry of our little piece of the universe.  There’s magic in the notes of the music that moves your body and drives you to dance when not a soul is around to see. It’s in the spaces between their fingers, right where you’re most at home,  intertwined as implicitly as can be.            There’s magic in the places that draw you, whether it be to mountain tops or the depth of the deep blue sea. And there’s magic in your passions and what leads you to be. There’s magic in the unknown;  It lies in the void between searching and doubt. The magic is the possibilities, and the room for wonders and figments of imagination.  So yes, I think I do believe in

Darling, I fear there is far more within me than you can ever know; Far more depths and nonesense,                 Lighthearted existentialism,                             Far more depthful shallows than can ever be explained.     I am clouded by an aura of mystery so thick even I cannot see through it. Even I cannot draw you the map you deserve,                  For I am hopelessly lost in my own dualism,                             My own labyrinth of contradictions and fading memories,                                           My own shroud of doubt weighing down every absolute and every                                                         consolation and every bit of truth I think I find . . . Darling I'm afraid you cannot truly know me, For I don't even know myself.

Life's latest lesson for me has been this: For that which means the most  to you, another's opinion of it should mean the least .  I need to work on sticking up for what I truly want. And to learn to say no when I can just feel in my bones that something is wrong. Otherwise life will just keep happening to me.  And I can't take that anymore. I'm so tired of being broken down. I need to stop worrying about other people and start fighting for myself and for what I want. And fighting against what I don't want. Because I can't keep letting things happen to me and then find myself having to recover from it. I'm tired and it's hard. I don't have the energy... If new beginnings mean constantly having to bandage myself from the hurt they cause me, I think I would prefer to wait until I am strong enough for that. Because I don't think I'm strong enough right now. And maybe I need to accept that.    Diamonds   So by the light of th

Her eyes twinkled at the lure of golden purity. . . At the chance to portray an ethereal facade of Goodness; But deep down,  Those twinkled eyes were destined w ith a disposition for  Darkness

She was always a complicated being. . . ever wrapped up in her own blanket woven of unsurety and desire. She knew who she wanted to be, yet was clueless about how to be that person. Her capabilities were unseen to herself, buried in the consistency of self-criticism and personal judgement which plagued her worried little mind. Yet she had worlds inside her. . . She was made up of stardust, and formed by the energy of all that lies within and beyond this Universe. . . She was the Universe. But she never knew how special that was. And always feared she may never find a way to share it with the world. She battled over whether or not she even should. She knew the world could be cruel and harsh and unreceptive to what is truly important in life. To the things which her inner world taught her to be truths. And so, she kept herself locked away. Sparingly hinting at her ideals and ideas in times when she felt either someone was wholehearedly and receptively listening,

Darling, please don't bore me. That is truly all I'll ever want from you. I want you to lead us into adventure and to allow yourself to get hopelessly lost with me so we can  learn to find our way again.  Just be reckless with me and remind yourself that your worries are worthless in your grand scheme of things.  Please never forget that your life is your story, and that if you don't think it's one even you would want to read. . .                        make it one. I want you to find little ways to surprise yourself and to find the opportunities that will teach you your own strengths. . .                  and your weakneses. It can be so easy to settle and to just be comfortable in this life. . .                           To get lost in the absurdly mundane lure of safety and simplicity.  But every day is an opportunity with limitless potential. . . You just have to be willing to fulfill it.  So if I can ask one thing of you; a

When you love someone, it's true what they say. Love is blind,      . . . and deaf. Every word out of the mouth of the one you love rings like sweet poetry and you drink it in like the water that gives us life. You'll find yourself defending them against allegations from others. You'll insist their intentions were pure, and that their heart is always in the right place. They can do no wrong, and you'll believe their lies as the god-given truth. You won't see their faults; you won't even believe they have any. You'll think they're an undiscovered gem in a mine of dust and dirt, their shine undiscovered by none other than the likes of you. You won't acknowledge their influence on you until it's too late. Even through your fights . . . the ones that rip you to shreds and cut you to your core . . . you'll find a way to cling on to what you have for the fear of loss. You'll accept the way they hurt you just to maintain all that you&#

Guilt.                                                     Shame .                                                                                                Embarrassment.                        Regret.                                                                                                                                                  Rage .                                                                          Fury.               Self Consciousness.                                                                                                      Self Hatred.  Helplessness.                                                                                                                                Uncertainty.                                                    Confusion.

So, so much comes to mind when I think of you. There's not one word, nor even a sentence, that could accurately outline what you are and what you mean to me.  See, you make my head spin. You bring out sides of myself I didn't even know I had. Push me harder than I've ever been pushed.  Sometimes I think I hate you. . . You give me the worst feelings without even knowing and make me question myself constantly.  And the worst part is that I can't even blame you. Because you have no idea. Sometime's you're blind. And you're selfish. You steamroll and dominate; seemingly unaware of your own power.  You're the worst thing for me. Yet other times I think I love you. . . in the purest, most selfless of ways reserved only for the closest of friends.  You teach me more about the world and the depth of life than I ever thought possible. You inspire me to be a better person, you open my mind, and accept even the worst parts of me. So even though

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It's been a year to the day. A year to the day I finally got back the freedom I never appreciated until it was temporarily taken from me. A year to the day when my life finally started to rebuild after being shattered into a million pieces I never thought I'd be able to put back together. It's been a year to the day that I began to really think about my choices. A year to the day when I started to be mindful and started to think about the person I wanted to be; because the person I was was far from what I ever expected for myself. A year to the day when I chose to be better.  It's been a year to the day. And I never intend to repeat the mistakes that I made. I never intend to place trust in those who do not deserve it. I never intend to let myself be blinded by false loyalties and my idealist views of the world. I intend to accept the realities; and to learn from them and to be better. In a year from today, I intend to be better off than I am no

I find it interesting that when you show your beauty to someone, love tends to follow.            It's all so simple.  Many people find it hard to see the beauty in others objectively. They view the world with blinders, and only see what they are shown. But there is so much more to the pretty faces and to the broken souls you see painting the scene around you.  When someone is "blind" to the world, they rely on people to show it to them, to help them realize. So when someone shows them who they are--and shares a piece of themselves--it’s easy for "the blind" to misinterpret it for love. When you’re someone like me who sees the beauty in everyone. . . in every scarred wrist, fucked up mind, misfit, outcast. . .  It’s easy to know the difference. I can appreciate, rather than claim. Romantic love--when you take away the miles and miles of alluring poetry written about it and the "profound" meaning this tired, uninspired world has given it