Revitalization’s Weblog
For the curious, questioning, and wandering soulArchive for black
Dark. Black. Possibility.
Sometimes I wrap my hands across my eyes and peer into the black. I see abyss. Dark. Black. Possibility.
I see what I could be. I envision something… different.
I see a little girl, frolicking on the dusty street in her faded dress and bare feet. I see a newborn baby, with soft pink eyes shut tight, dreaming of light and sound. I see a young man dropped to the ground with his head in his palms, broken. I see a child peeking around the corner, only to catch a glimpse of golden light pouring through glass windows. I see a woman running along the tides, thunder rumbles behind as her hair whips back in the wind.
I envision something… desperate, something forgotten
And what do I want?
I think I’m more hopeful. I think this summer has been great. Some flirtations, some adventures, some great conversations. I think there’s a lot that the future holds. I think that I’m beginning to know not only who I am, but what I can do. What I can achieve. What I want.
And what do I want?
I’ve said this before. I’ll say it again. I want love, I want life, I want a pure and sincere happiness that runs deep. I want adventure and surprise, I want to be better. I want to be STRONG, confident, powerful, and able. Able to choose, able to believe, able to aspire, able to achieve, able to reach, and able to grab.
I think I’ll get there. I think I’m getting there. To that point where I can finally be the best version of me, and offer that person to a world where acceptance is abundant and ambition flows.
I think I’m getting there. And while my road has had bumps, grooves, obstacles and u-turns, I’m getting somewhere. There are two directions, there has always been two directions: up and down.
I choose up.
For a moment the earth has slowed down, the mind settles, and all that matters are deep breaths of pure, cold air.
I imagine I’m sitting at a cafe, under an awning. It’s raining. It’s night. I’m just sitting there, breathing in that clean, crisp smell. The water falls on cobblestone roads, as the yellow streetlights reflect across the pavement.
It’s a quiet rain. A heavy mist.
It seems like everything is calm, for a moment. For a moment the earth has slowed down, the mind settles, and all that matters are deep breaths of pure, cold air.
blind yourself
life is about distracting yourself. Blinding yourself. Making yourself look away from the harsh truth that death is.
Death is
harsh
blunt
lonely
cold
finding love isn’t easy, you have to be ready for it
Some people are open to love. Some people live with open hearts and those kinds of people find each other- at the supermarket, book store, coffee shop, or what have you. Those kinds of people will love often, and grow frequently.
I’m not sure if I’m like that- for some reason, maybe life experience or maybe genetics, I’m not someone who is open and free with love. I hate that. I wish I was open, honest, and forward.
hmm… some people have it…. some people know what love is, how to attract it, how to find it… some people are in touch with that… that innate human intuition…
dusty footprints are swept away
I think about those common people, who have been swept away with the wind. Those who have died, those who have loved, those who have lived greatly, those who were. I think about those people who used to be living, and now exist only in the wind. While they tried, desperately, to put their footprints on early terrain, while they tried to create lasting impressions, to make differences, to be remembered.. they were forgotten. And to no one’s fault… they were forgotten because that’s what happens…….and that’s what always will happen… people forget, memories fade fast, and dusty footprints are swept away by the breeze.
I wonder if that’ll happen to me. I know inevitably it will. I know that everyone I know and everyone I will ever know will fade away with me, when I’m gone. I know it will happen. It’s an eerie feeling, and a spooky thought. While I have lived, and while I am trying to do good and great things…I will fade… along with all that I know, and all that I’ve done. In some sense, one must ponder, then what’s the point. Why even try? Because in the end, everything breaks, and people forget… but I think it matters. If not to anyone else, actually… to no one else, it still matters. To you. You will remember, and you will have lived, and loved, and done grand things… you will remember… even after being swept away… I hope………. I hope I will remember
I am not alone. and I love that.
I feel BRIGHT and WARM. Inside my smile, inside my chest. I love this feeling of closeness, of connection, of relating. I feel like this, right HERE, this is reaching out.. what we do here is reaching out.. trying to grapple and grasp onto anything that we can relate to. WordPress- it allows us to attempt… attempt to find someone who we can relate to, people who we can feel with and feel close to. It’s about trying to reach out, and see how similar humanity truly is. And while we’re going through our own lives, and it may seem near impossible that there are others who are experiencing the same thing, I think this helps us see that it is near possible that there are. There are people just like me, just like you, just like them, who are having the same thoughts, same feelings, same emotions, same ideas, and while, in this ever-lonely world where human contact is dwindling, we are still reaching out- across oceans, trying to grapple and grasp someone who is the same. I love that.
You have yourself. So have yourself. Be yourself.
you know… it’s about a lot. and this might just be bullshit, but hey who knows, it might be true…
today, i just feel like writing, and i just feel like there might be someone listening. I feel like, if anything, I could be listening! I will listen. listen up self.
it’s about a lot. life, i mean. life’s about a lot, and it’s about realizing that life’s not short. LIFE IS LONG. Life is long, and hard, and beautiful, and tough, and crazy, and at the end, we may want more. I mean, quenching a thirst for life, I don’t think that even exists- you gotta want more and more, and at the end, you feel like wow, it’s done. life’s done? i mean…. really? how can that be? And i hope that once i get to that point, when I’m saying Wow, life’s done, and this is done, i hope that… well i hope that i had a great one. One that i can be happy with, and feel fulfilled. Not financially, or professionally, or superficially… but internally, and simply happy. content with what i’ve become. content with what has happened.
Life is long. and… while i fear a lot… i fear that everything won’t happen for me… i fear that i made mistakes.. i fear that i won’t have enough time… i have to believe that it will happen for me, and that while i have made mistakes, there is time and it will happen. it will come.
It will come. Will it come? I think we have to believe that it will. I think there is no other way to live. Because to live in fear, doubt, and frustration… well that’s no way to live. Oh sure, fleeting doubt and fear, it comes, but it should go. let it go.
Let it go. And hold onto hope, and believe that it will come. Because, if anything, trust in the fact that you have yourself, if nothing else, and if no one else, you have yourself. And that’s special. That’s unique, and undeniable. That’s remarkable, and no one can take that away from you, even after it’s all over. Even after death, you have yourself.
You have yourself. So have yourself. Be yourself. Be honest with yourself. Because in the end, things break, people leave, and the world turns- and if there is nothing left, nothing at all, you have you. You have you, and that’s remarkable. So trust in yourself, trust in life, trust in promise, trust in the human condition, trust in you that: it’s about a lot, and while life is long, it will come. So let it go because you have yourself. Undeniably.
Why do we get to be?
Fragments. Fragmented, cut up, broken. It’s what we know. These sharp shards of all that we know sit in our minds, and somehow we cope. I mean I don’t really get it… I don’t get how I can live in this world, and accept that I don’t, and will never understand everything. I don’t get how I can live in this world, and walk the same paths, and do the same things, and see the same people, and not understand everything. Honestly.
We come into this world, a screaming pink ball, so angry that we had to come out of that comfort place, that beautiful warm womb. We come into this world, and are expected to adapt. And grow. And accept. Accept all that we see, and all that is, we must accept it because it is here, and it is real, as real as we know. And because it is here and because we can see it, touch it, feel it, it is real, and that’s all that matters. So we live in this world.
We live with these fragments. Fragments of what life is. Fragments of what “human” means. Fragments of a higher power that is all knowning. Fragments of an eternalness of it all. Fragments of the universe that we somehow, somehow are a part of, without even acknowledging it, we are, we are a part of it. Fundamentally, and essentially. It is unquestioning. Right? Maybe.
I just don’t get it. I mean, I get that there is life, and there is us, because I am here, at least in this moment I think I am, and I think that’s good enough to acknowledge that this is true. Right now is happening, at least we think it is. But, in essence, what does it matter if it truly is or isn’t. Because thought, and agreement that what is, IS, well that makes things real. And so I am sitting here, real. I am real, and you are real, and we are living in this world together, as we imagine it and percieve it, and how we see it makes it how it is, because that is all we know. And so we sit here, together, in this world, seeing, living, breathing, and nothing.
No questions. No demands for answers! NOTHING! I don’t get it! I don’t get how people are just “OK” with this. This reality- people accept it, undeniably. As if this is real, because it is what we know. There is no questioning. None. There is no question about why! There are no questions about us, and the universe, and where we come from- where these personalities, and thoughts, these complex and unique thoughts come from. Sure, from DNA, from genes, from biology, but why? Why do we have capabilities to be? To be freely thinking and moving? Why do we get to be?
Why do we get to be?
I guess that’s the question right there. And, if we get to be, and I think most would agree, at least those who are, that we are, right now, right here, we are. And if we are, and we get to be, and maybe it’s this wonderful gift, maybe it’s a mistake, maybe it just is, then why do we get to die? Why do we have to die? Why do we get to live and get to die- it should be really one or the other. But then again, who I am to say what things “should” be like. Haha, it’s comical really, to think that we can suggest how things “should” be, when we have no control over how things are. We are just thrown into this reality, and are expected to accept it, and to just be “ok” with the fact that we get to live and we get to die.
So why do we get to be? And why do we get to die?
That warmth that fills your heart with hot red blood
And you stand with hair pulled back, and your hands are pressing against your ears, and all you can hear is the pattering sound of water on your skull, your cranium, your mind. And then the water rushes in, and fills all voids, swishes around and around in your mind, warm and fuzzy. Warm lights. Yellows and orange, it’s so peaceful, as if in back in the womb, when there was absolutely nothing, where there was just warmth, and light, and dim echoes of sounds, and the comforting sound of a mother’s heartbeat, of a mother’s voice. And your eyes are closed, and a slight smile sits on your lips, and you are cared for, and loved, and all is wondrful and beautiful because you are here, surrounded by warmth.
And then you open your eyes, and you see where you are, and you see you. You see you and what you have become and you wonder what the hell you are doing right here, right now. If you have made ANY difference in this fucking world that you have been living in, so blindly. As if you haven’t started living, as if you are waiting for something good or great, something to change, some major life change after which you will start living as the person you want to be, and you feel you need that fuckng push. That SHOVE. And it doesn’t come, and so you wait, and you slump, and your shoulders hunch, and your eyes lower, and your spirit withers, and all you have, all you hang onto is that little glimmering hope that ONE DAY that change will come. It will bring you up, lift you high and take you across, where all is good and wonderful, where life begins, and where you so desperately belong. And as you wait, and wait, and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait, you see the fucking damage that this time, this torturous time has had on your rocky heart, and your wrinkled brow. And then self-pity sets in.
And all you want to do is crawl back into that warm place. That warmth that fills your heart with hot red blood and flushes your cheeks. That place that you know was the one place where you were sure, and all you had to do was close your eyes, rest your mind, and feel soft pulses, plush sounds, calm breaths. Just be still.
Diaries of a Vagabond
I sit here, listening to some sad music, putting me in the mood, urging me to write pitiful words. Hah. The hairs stand on my arms, my eyes ache. I love the violins, the sad sad violins.
Just BREAK me down! I am starting to crave it—just an earth-shattering blow to my world. Break it into one trillion pieces, break crack rip smash. Oh what I would give to…. To move, to start again and again and again. It gets so boring. One life, one way of life, I’m tired. Turn it upside down, shake my shoulders. Am I seriously the only one? The only one who is bored, bored of this, of doing this, again and again. Eat, sleep, gym, study, work, play. How utterly dull, such monotony.
I don’t know how to do it, I don’t think I’m big enough to take the step. I don’t think I could do it to myself- change it all, just leave it all behind. Really, if I just picked up and left. Stepped onto a bus, and went. Got onto a plane, and left. Just left. I mean I don’t know if…. Hmm……vagabond
My shine is wearing off. Like an old penny, covered in age. The glisten in my eye is dimming, the light in my pulsing heart flickers. Maybe reality is setting in, and I am hearing. I am seeing what ‘to be human’ really means. I’m seeing agony, I’m seeing heartbreak……………I’m seeing fear….. helplessness.
I can see it in strangers’ eyes. I see how much it hurts.
But we get by, because that’s all we know. And so we shuffle along, and keep treading water and we make a little life, surround ourselves with material comforts, and try to forget, plug our ears and close our eyes shut tight, and just block out what we don’t want to hear, what we don’t want to realize is so true.
And I see myself… I can see myself on this path, on this specific road, going down the ignorant road. Is it so wrong that I want something different for myself, for me, is it so wrong that I want something great? So just give me an earth-shattering blow and break me down into one trillion pieces so I can wake up and start again, so I can try again………. I just need to try again….let me try again
a random 15
I like the smell of hot milk.
I love sleeping in soft beds.
I think I’m a sincere person.
I like to sit in the front of the bus so I can see the road.
I try to read books that will open my eyes.
I love getting hand-written notes.
I like listening to songs over and over again.
I prefer rainy days.
I think there are people that weave in and out of my life, and I in theirs, where we have never met and may never meet, but somehow we are undeniably connected.
I want an amazing romance.
I like to make eye contact with strangers.
I save random objects and notes I find in a little hidden box.
I write things on money in hopes that they will return to me in years and years.
I look forward to really honest moments.
I sometimes forget to look up at the stars and realize how infinitesimal life is.
a stomach-churning crunch
It’s haunting really. Those fleeting thoughts, that come so quickly they stop your heart. Like suddenly falling flat, with your nose crashing into the ground in a stomach-churning crunch, blood flowing ruby red and tears well so quick you can’t hold back. And you turn over and just lay there, hands scrapped and cheeks flushed. Sprawled, feeling like shit, and peering up into the dull gray fog.
You get angry, with a furrowed brow, and you wonder why the world is so fucking black. Why the hell you got these cards. What the hell did you do wrong? And you wonder when! You wonder when the hell things will change, when things will be better on this barren earth. God, there is so much corruption, so much violence, so many men that die. How can I not help but to look at all that is bad, it stares me in the eye, clouds my vision. Men die for words, for WORDS. But, what’s more disturbing, men kill because of words. Men kill because of disputes about whose God is right, whose God is good. Oh god, people die, millions of people die.
Understand that I’m not utterly devestated that people die because of violence, because of unjustice, because of wars, but I’m am utterly broken because people die. That simple, simple fact. People die, prematurely and without satisfaction, without achieving passions, without loving, without knowing, without accepting a fate.
This fleeting thought, it hits me so hard some days. It hits me so fucking hard, that I can’t help but to buckle and cry and scream and clench my fists and pound my hands on the hard ground until they are red, until my spirit breaks. Death represents such an end, such a permanent end to my life. Not in a biological sense, but an end to me. An end. An end to the my thoughts, to my world, to my universe. At my end, the universe stops, it simply stops and that is so inconcievable. It might as well have not existed, it might as well have not been. I don’t know when I’ll be able to accept this, I don’t know if I ever will- it scares the shit out of me, and I can’t face it without feeling such honest terror. Where will I be when there world stops, the sun never rises again, the moon never shines once more, the heart putters to a stand still and all that’s left is silence, deafening silence. When will I take my last breath, take my last step, feel my last inch perish. oh god.
