The heavy scent of leather and embers fill the room moving me occasionally to places I least expect to be. Something about this smell, just like all others that make my heart weak I walk away from sad thoughts I carefully guard. I tell myself, "no... not right now. I have better things to do." No matter where I go, the scent has now latched on to me. Ignoring it no longer works as if I have no other choice of what air to breathe. I breathe in unwanted memories and unfortunate realities. To be here and now means to die slowly, hopeless and helpless. To give in and travel back to the past, I only find myself digging out of a shallow grave. Breathless, I am consumed by sorrow unyielding. Whateve...
Like most nights I felt how quickly the hours of my day went by. Satisfied that all the chores I needed to do were off my list, I confidently visited the place in my head where all the things I want to do live. The random check was not as overwhelming as it usually is when I force myself to bravely face all that I have thought, all that I am willing to think about, all that I have pushed aside and all that I have locked away. I see a semblance of quiet organization like a bookshelf that I have put together from a box and dutifully filled with the vast collection I once had. Somehow I needed to celebrate the little things I have accomplished with a glass of pinot noir. The night was young and...
I amuse myself with fortune cookie wisdom from time to time. This one in particular is telling me to take the risk I’ve been considering. It seems so simple but now that I’ve had time to think I’m almost sorry I entertained the thought. Lesson learned... again!
I seem to frequently get rid of things that no longer make me happy. Some make it quickly to the trash but others I reluctantly keep for reasons I cannot explain. Eventually as I desperately move things around those things I’ve kept are now misplaced and nowhere to be found. When I’m reminded by something seemingly irrelevant I am led to the lost items as if I had always known where I’ve placed them. I need a better system than this, I tell myself.
Looking through what I have found I remain calm and I observe how I feel. I often remember the feelings attached to every single one. All of them a distant memory. Nothing tugs in my heart. No tears well up in my eyes. I am simply looking at what...
Be in the process of positive change by unfolding in fulfilling ways allowing only good to come to you.
No matter how confident I am there comes a time that something out of nowhere shatters that glorious bubble of fearlessness. It's like a slow attack to my immune system, seemingly a speck of what had traumatized me once becomes that which leads to the death of me. Undetected the paralyzing bit starts to thrive fiercely consuming rebuilt pieces of myself. I struggle and recover most of the time but the other times I fall hard. Face on the ground, unable to get up, doubtlessly crippled and beaten so badly I surrender after a long antagonizing battle. I am done, I say to myself fully embracing defeat as if there is no other way to overcome this slow death... as if I never conquered the monsters ...
Three days in a row and I keep waking up from a dream that leaves me wondering. The first two mornings I simply shrugged it off. Today, it’s never felt more real and I am called upon to rise up and meet my life. This slow process I have chosen making me despondent and detached is weakening and I feel the ground beneath all my insistence shaking, filling all the cracks with optimism. May all parts of my soul unite so they may ascend together.
There is a dangerous place between love and fear. I don't think anyone deliberately goes there. Most of the time we don't recognize where we are until we find ourselves clawing out of the hole, gasping for air, desperately hoping to go back to that day we should have chosen to give ourselves the love we deserve. Push through the pain and choose you because each passing chance you don't take shackles you to the the ground while the walls slowly close in.
Words often appear to have vanished from someone who used to write. Probable causes sanctimoniously gather in abundance to those who have forgotten that words pour out only when there is truly something worth writing.
Some lives appear beautiful with all the bells and whistles attached. One can't help but wonder what it must be like to have such life. With that view it's naturally easy to think that it must be wholesome and almost perfect. Almost perfect because nothing is ever perfect in life. One can almost taste the exhilaration and exuberance of what seems unattainable for some blurring the image of one's own existence momentarily.
Some lives appear beautiful with all the bells and whistles attached. One can only hope it is truly how it appears for it not, such beauty is nothing if it's all a facade. Some things only appear solid on the outside but deeply hollow inside. No amount of frills and embe...
As the wifi signal fades every now and then disrupting the Healing Sounds playlist in my living room I can now see the certainty of some of my desires. Some days I call it "moving on" and other days "purging". When I am at my weakest I lean towards the idea of change to help me cope. I have always accepted that change meant hope. Although my thoughts are not at powerful as the actions that I need to do, hope holds me back. Like a pendulum I have swung back and forth with what I intend to do, it's not until today that I look at my thoughts materialize. Somehow I feel the same.
My home looks like I am moving in again with all the boxes neatly piled on the side where most ...
Slow Saturday mornings are perfect for gazing at torn pages of reverie now ashes in the fireplace. Dust hug the cold ashes of years gone by. Promises all gone with the love as fleeting as the written words. All that exist is nothing but dust and reverie, like hollow words and delusions of loneliness.
Born of lakes and ponds, rivers, streams and springs, seas and oceans, she floats upstream, downstream, over and under tides and waves. Shapeless and formless, she can make its way through the cracks. The tears that escape her only gives her strength.
You will understand the mystery that I am if you get past the closed doors. They are not walls to protect me but are scars growing thickly over and on top of each other from the wounds trying to heal.
Once an open book, I am no more. On a dusty shelf I rest, pages yellowing over time. Someday, I will be rare and cherished again like I never have before.
Love, daunting as ever is not too far a thought except for the recent past so cumbersome. The merry-go-round of relentless games choke-hold the heart. With every new beginning a promise of hope shines through until such awakening of the same days relived.
Loneliness, a trusted friend stands closeby armed with words of wisdom. Days arrive seemingly new filled with bright tomorrows. Scattered thoughts momentarily provide comfort and delusions of time not owned only borrowed.
Frail and infirmed my heart one day will be subdued. This I know, but for now I hold lovingly my trusted friend today and a few more tomorrows.
Love, daunting as ever... my past I always remember.
I remain different yet the same with every passing day. Strong yet broken in all the places that matter. Held by barely a flake of melting snow I walk this earth asking for mercy.
Different but the same, I embrace the punishment no human has the right to inflict because I live not for myself but those I love who can never love me the same.
I remain different but the same, for the mercy I ask is not for me but for those who have gravely hurt me in hopes that one day I walk this earth held by a thousand melting snowflakes.
Different but the same, my weakness has become my strength.
I never thought I’d outgrow certain things, people and behaviors but here I am awakened by what’s new and strangely unfamiliar. What I felt that I needed then and couldn’t live without now lay on the side of the road. With each step moving forward and with no judgement to what I’ve left behind I continue walking mostly alone, occasionally in the company of others.
In the end, it boils down to a simple thought. What we do to others will be done to us. Choose wisely.
Beware when you play with someone’s heart. You may escape the wrath you enjoy to give. Pray to your god or what higher power you adore that someone won’t do it to your child.
Even the strong slowly crumble and fall apart in the hands of those without a heart.
We look at the place where it all began. Where there was once music and joy, silence has moved in. I hear beneath my feet the fragile remnants of broken glass. The walls look gray thickly painted with pain. There is no sign of life in this space. He is where I cannot go. Unbeknownst to him, he took what keeps me alive... my heart, my life. A lesson learned. The life I give is not mine to keep.
Breathe... this too shall pass. When things are said to you, do not have an emotional reaction. Master the art of calm and restraint so words do not hurt you.
There was a time I fought and conquered dragons and demons for you to feel safe but tonight I pray you find the courage to stay alive so you may one day tell the story of how you bravely fought and conquered bigger and stronger dragons and demons lurking in your pure unsuspecting heart.
The time has come when my eyes can’t stay awake. My mind is drifting, no longer wrapped in fog. My heart heavy not knowing how shallow you may be breathing. You are where I sent you out of love and sorrow. Strength no longer what I feel. Courage I had all out of fear. My heart aches. It bleeds. It’s beating but dead knowing choices are to be made. I made a choice out of love, fear and the slightest of hope that the pain I have caused you someday will give you peace.
It’s a different kind of quiet. Not one that you often have asked for. Not quite what you have felt. With this one comes the anticipation of better days and reassurance of peace and comfort. With this quiet comes the longing of the loudest relief in any form. With this quiet, it seems the same tears beg to peek out slowly, roll and drop laced with a new fear that maybe the new day might not be the best you’ve hoped for.
Training myself to let go of everything I’m afraid to lose is excruciating. Some days I’m drained empty and other days barely holding on to what used to matter. The balance in my life is teetering and in full swing to sides unknown. I’m often leaning on one side not by choice but by the stronger pull of that which overwhelms me. On the surface I maintain excellent composure as I go about my day, light seemingly shining through from within and an aura of confidence. I’m on survival mode more so than the other days when I didn’t have to make a choice. Not that this has never been placed before me. It’s a cycle that continually erupts always changing to keep me on my toes. I never wonder if this...
What I failed to see while in the process of eliminating traces of ME are the memories of those who I’ve met. They will forever remain in the places they’ve been kept. Some worth keeping, some worth forgetting these memories all created from how they see me and not who I am.
Just like the words I’ve written and read over and over again, the waves of love and heartache clash only to mingle and attach themselves to each other. This heart broken thought to not withstand another storm hangs on a sliver of hope that may or may not see the light. Lost most days and gone all nights, it’s but the whispers of the walls crying and singing their lullaby begging for one more day... love will find its way.
Let go of the man that you have become because he is not who you are. Let go of the hurt you never deserved. Let go of the anger that every now and then festers when you are reminded of past not forgotten. Let all that go and see your old self come home to you. Give the love that you always believed in and it will find you.