Revitalization's Weblog

For the curious, questioning, and wandering soul

Archive for aura

Hands

She’s a young woman, waves of black cascade down as her head hangs, her face in her hands. She sits, she ponders, she feels… something sad from within. Something of sorrow.  She feels her heart, so ready, brimming with love and possibility, abundant with ardor and zeal. She feels it thumping and thumping, as if knocking on her chest from within, asking: is it time yet?

She lifts her head, her dark eyes gaze downwards with eyelids heavy, she looks down upon her hands, they’re open, concave, soft and smooth. They sit calmly before her, in no rush, wisely waiting, calmly existing, knowing that when the right hands come to hers, they will fit. Simply. And they won’t ever let go.

Heavy

My mind is heavy, it’s weary even in its youth. Weighed down by tired thoughts that seem to stream through on repeat again, and again. It’s as if my mind is a junkyard, filled with dust and debris scattered here and there. On one side there’s a stack of cars, piled perhaps 10 high, flattened and weathered with worn tires from the miles they traveled, from the world they have seen. On the other, broken and forgotten pieces of home, buried toys of a childhood that is long gone.

Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us.

Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there–on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam. -Carl Sagan

11:18pm

Here we go. words. let’s do this. Currently listening to Cinematic Orchestra. Yes. I love this.

Well, I feel older, I feel wiser. Today, I feel comfort. I feel comfort in my skin, I feel confident. I feel good. I feel better than I did before. I feel wiser than I did before. I feel like I’m ready, I feel like I’m getting there. I am getting SOMEWHERE. Somewhere good, I hope, I aspire. Hmmm, this music is so loving, so simple. It is rich and full. I can sink into it.

I’m conflicted here. Ok, here I go, no holding back. I’m torn, between two men, both friends, both wonderful men, both strong, both attractive, both loving. One clearly communicates better than the other. Aye, no more of this nonsense. What shall be, will be. Let the wind take it. Let the world turn, let things fall into place, let things happen. It always turns out as it is supposed to. Always. Simply don’t interfere, simply live, and go, and go with your intuition, and it will happen. It always does. I love trusting in nature, trusting in life, letting go. let go. trust and let go. and nestle in the comfort that things will work out. They will. They will. They will. Sigh.

Hmmmm, what else. I want to be confident and sure. I want to be myself and I want to go after what I want. Stop thinking and start acting. Stop second guessing. Just go, just do. You can.

When I listen to this song, it brings me back to reality. It brings me home, it brings me to myself and connects me back to life, to mortality, to these fleeting days of our lives. It reminds me that things are just things, but we are people, and we find meaning in and with each other. We are people, and we must find shelter in others. It reminds me of the stars, it reminds me of this universe, of the millions of stars, of space, of time. Of the grandness that exists, of the grandness of this life. Of everything that we get to experience, by fortune, but perhaps it is just because of our nature. We get to experience this, these things, because we are human, because we received the fortune to be born, to be here. We get to see light, and colors, and perceive beauty, and feel love, and feel the wind, and look up, and dream. we get to dream. what fortune. we get to see life, and death, we get to grow old. We get to feel. We get to learn and experience and explore and venture and take risks. We get to do all these things. It IS amazing. It truly is. You must know this, you must realize what great fortune we live in. What we know, what we are, well that’s something great. That is something that you must reach for, reach out and hold it tight. Always recognize the beauty that surrounds you, including the beauty that is you. Always be in awe. Always stand back, with eyes open. With eyes wide open. Realize that the pettiness that surrounds us, that surrounds you, is just that- petty, and small, and simply and oh-so-utterly unimportant. Realize that the grandiose that surrounds us, that surrounds you, is just that- grandiose, and wonderful, and amazing. Just… please… always realize, always remember, to stand back, with eyes wide open.

until my eyes lose you

Would you just stop and pause? It makes me so frustrated when you speed through the days. It makes me so angry, it makes me clench my fists when you steam ahead, leaving behind a blurry trail. It makes me stomp and cry out. You, like lava pouring down a mountainside, unstoppable. You, like a speeding train, accelerating and accelerating, broken brakes. You, whirlwind. You…. you’re leaving. you’re getting further away. you’re already disappearing into the horizon, getting smaller and smaller, until my eyes lose you. You’re far. You’ve left me behind, you’ve forgotten. How? How could you have possibly let me go, how could you let me slip from your grasp, so smooth. You’re far and I’m here, crumpled cardboard cut-out. Gazing at the surrounding vastness.

Entropy

It’s a universal law: all systems will naturally tend towards chaos. The entropy of the universe is constantly increasing,ever since the big bang, everything is getting more and more chaotic. I think this is also true for human life: we begin as children, young and innocent. Bright-eyed and awestruck at everything around us. Life is so simple, pleasant. There’s usually love, there’s usually simplicity. Perhaps I am idealizing this universal notion of a childhood, or perhaps it seems this way looking back, but I can surely say that times were much simpler back then. We were urged to be creative, learn, grow, and run.

But, as we age, things get complicated. It occurs slowly and we start growing up. Responsibility and realization. The grimy truths are revealed and a pessimistic world unravels before our eyes. We begin to notice evils, wrong-doings, war and violence. We begin to recognize negativity and understand that life is terminal, everything is terminal.

I can only imagine that this will continue. As I enter the next decades, life will reveal more and become increasingly chaotic.

I find it difficult to grapple with. I find it difficult to not fall prey to it all. To not lose faith. I find it hard to hold onto the good, to the positive. I find it hard to grasp, with every fiber, onto the tiniest glimmer of hope. I find it hard to not slip into the negativity, the faithlessness, the questioning. It’s a struggle and it’s draining– to keep fighting for what you want in life, to keep pushing towards some unknown aspiration, to keep striving. It’s exhausting and it seems so much easier to give up. To let yourself go, to not care anymore, to just drift through life, coasting and taking whatever comes nonchalantly.

But. I don’t think that’s right. It can’t be right. It’s a struggle, it’s a fight, it’s a boxing match against all them demons. When you run until you can’t anymore, when you push your physicality to the last limit, when you aim higher…. well that’s a feeling that cannot be contained. Achievement, power, strength, will… It’s hard to attain, but perhaps good things are worth struggling for. Work hard and life will be fruitful.

I’m not saying that I know this to be true. But it’s something that I hope is true. The other option seems all too easy, all too worthless. I guess we all must invite the chaos and keep reaching for things just out of our reach.

Where’s my mind at?

this is where my mind lingers:

The aqua blue water whirled, bubbles rising towards the surface. The water is clear, with little specs glimmering as they sink to the sand. There’s no life here, only brown-white sand, that stretches for miles. Somehow I can stay below, eyes open and no breath needed. I look all around, but there’s only soft sand and the movement of the soft waves.

I push off the ground, my toes dig into the sand. As my head breaks the water, I peer up at cloudy skies. White billowing clouds stream across the sky. As I face the horizon, there’s nothing but water in every direction. It’s perfectly calm.

I blink, and it changed. From light to dark. From day to night- but it is not night, not really. Dark chaotic clouds rise, rumbling. The atmosphere is electric, the darkness romantic. These heavenly beings surging with power. I feel it coming: the first strike. With a loud crack, light fills every inch of space and mind.

Living Like Weasels

I’ve always loved Annie Dillard’s language. It’s so powerful, and Living Like Weasels truly a beautiful piece of literature. Here are my favorite excerpts:

“Weasel! I’d never seen one wild before. He was ten inches long, thin as a curve, a muscled ribbon, brown as fruitwood, soft-furred, alert. His face was fierce, small and pointed as a lizard’s; he would have made a good arrowhead. There was just a dot of chin, maybe two brown hairs’ worth, and then the pure white fur began that spread down his underside. He had two black eyes I didn’t see, any more than you see a window.

The weasel was stunned into stillness as he was emerging from beneath an enormous shaggy wild rose bush four feet away. I was stunned into stillness twisted backward on the tree trunk. Our eyes locked, and someone threw away the key.

Our look was as if two lovers, or deadly enemies, met unexpectedly on an overgrown path when each had been thinking of something else: a clearing blow to the gut. It was also a bright blow to the brain, or a sudden beating of brains, with all the charge and intimate grate of rubbed balloons. It emptied our lungs. It felled the forest, moved the fields, and drained the pond; the world dismantled and tumbled into that black hole of eyes. If you and I looked at each other that way, our skulls would split and drop to our shoulders. But we don’t. We keep our skulls. So.

He disappeared. This was only last week, and already I don’t remember what shattered the enchantment. I think I blinked, I think I retrieved my brain from the weasel’s brain, and tried to memorize what I was seeing, and the weasel felt the yank of separation, the careening splash-down into real life and the urgent current of instinct. He vanished under the wild rose. I waited motionless, my mind suddenly full of data and my spirit with pleadings, but he didn’t return.”

And later she writes….

“We could, you know. We can live any way we want. People take vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience–even of silence–by choice. The thing is to stalk your calling in a certain skilled and supple way, to locate the most tender and live spot and plug into that pulse. This is yielding, not fighting. A weasel doesn’t “attack” anything; a weasel lives as he’s meant to, yielding at every moment to the perfect freedom of single necessity.

I think it would be well, and proper, and obedient, and pure, to grasp your one necessity and not let it go, to dangle from it limp wherever it takes you. Then even death, where you’re going no matter how you live, cannot you part. Seize it and let it seize you up aloft even, till your eyes burn out and drop; let your musky flesh fall off in shreds, and let your very bones unhinge and scatter, loosened over fields, over fields and woods, lightly, thoughtless, from any height at all, from as high as eagles.”

 

If you love this as much as I do, google it and read the whole thing.

a mindless rambling…sigh

searching searcing, ah there it is. come on, bring me there. i want to go there, don’t you see that? I’m waiting, with a smirk on my face and my hair hanging down. there we go, there we come. MmmMmm. It’s quiet, wind wisps up, kissing by the fire. Slightly upturned lipss, touch the stars and come back to me. I see you, I see you and I love what I see. You, looking at me looking at you. Near the fire, under the stars, circling this orbit, zooming across the universe. Oblivious. There’s only now, right? I hope. Wake up, drinking coffee. The world, it’s changing and we’re changing. I put my hand into yours, fits so well. Fits so well. I smile, because that’s all I want. You, my hand in yours.

I want to hear your heart, in your chest, so warm, so powerful. There’s a heart and I hear it. Strange. Remember this, remember it because its here and it’s now and it’s all that there is.

Snatching the Unattainable, Only for You

Fuck this shit. FUCK this. These expectations are too high. You put them there, on the highest shelf. Out of reach. Criticize and criticize, until you’re blue in the face. Fuck this shit. I hate it. I cannot handle it. I’m supposed to be hard and tough, build a hard, plastic shell around myself to protect my fragile innards from the verbal wasteland known as your mouth. Well, I don’t. I don’t have a shell, perhaps I tried to build one, make one…. but it has cracks, deep cracks and go straight to the core. and every time you poke, every time you comment, it sticks that dagger a little deeper, it widens the crack a little more, revealing a swirl of vulnerabilities.

Ok, so I’m not good enough. Is that what you’re getting at? That I’m not worthy of this time and this money, these resources and all that you’ve given me? Is that it? Because I cannot achieve the best, be the best, be the one and only BEST, that I am not worthy. This may have been a bad investment. I may have been a bad investment, because I certainly am not what you want, what you desire in your heart.

You, you want perfection. You want this from me. How cruel and undeserved. You tell me I’m wasting time, I’m wasting money, I am wrong, I only do things wrong wrong wrong. I can hardly take anymore. It is hurting my heart. And I’m afraid that there may be some permanent damage.

Oh sure, you’re blind with a vision. You’re blind with ego. But, you don’t see what you’re doing to me. Breaking me down, with every small comment, telling me oh so very indirectly that I am imperfect and wrong. Never right. I can never be right or good.

Disappointment, that’s all I ever feel. Well, perhaps that’s a bit extreme, but that’s what I feel right now. Disappointment because I cannot attain the unattainable. Because I am not good enough, and you expected more. You set the bar too high. And while I have tried for years and years to reach that bar, standing on the tippiest toes, I always stumbled, I always bumbled in your eyes. You don’t see me, you only see my faults. You only see what could be, what should be. You don’t see what I am, and what I have achieved, what I have managed to accomplished in the endless pursuit of trying to appease you and your thirst for perfection from me.

Oh it’s tiring, oh I am tired. This has been an arduous journey and I feel myself breaking down. I try to shield my fragile beating heart from those words, I try to persevere. But, there comes a time when you get through to me. You cut right into me, break me down and tell me to stand up to take some more.

How am I supposed to be a confident young woman, outgoing and smart? How am I supposed to tackle this world and believe that anything is possible, when, you have undoubtedly shoved straight into my face that hardly anything is possible, because I have achieved almost nothing.

You break me down, but I still come whimpering back, trying to please and appease, trying to gain your approval and praise, trying, desperately trying to snatch the unattainable-only for you. I try, I try, and I keep trying.

Fade Into You

it’s sprinkling outside. i’m smiling on the inside.

“I want to hold the hand inside you
I want to take a breath that’s true
I look to you and I see nothing
I look to you to see the truth
You live your life
You go in shadows
You’ll come apart and you’ll go blind
Some kind of light into your darkness
Colors your eyes with what’s not there.

Fade into you
Strange you never knew
Fade into you
I think it’s strange you never knew

A stranger’s light comes on slowly
A stranger’s heart without a home
You put your hands into your head
And then smiles cover your heart…”

-Mazzy Star

LIFE. it begins and ends with you.

LIFE. it begins and ends with you.

And all that happens in between, all the heartbreaks, they just fill the middle

You. You enter the world alone, crying and screaming. You grow up, you adapt, you rebel, you begin to realize, you begin to love someone, and you grow old.

But, after all of those years, wondering and hoping and crying and crumbling, you begin to fade away.

You have grown to know the external so well, it almost becomes all that you are.

But, you are still the only thing in this entire world and universe that you truly know.

you have you.

Life, it begins and ends with you. That will never change.

 

Five, singular, solid, waxy minutes

I just had five minutes. One of those five minutes that reminds of what I already know, but seem to forget in the present. I seem to get lost in the current world that surrounds, I seem to forget where I truly stand. I seem to see what is placed in front of my face, what commotion enters my ears, what I am told to know.

I am being vague. What do I want to say to you? Why do I want to say this to YOU? I am not entirely sure, and I am almost certain that I am not entirely sure of anything. It’s part of the problem. How can you be, really, sure? When everything you know is what you are told, what is put upon you. From birth, you enter this world, screaming and raging that someone stole you away from serenity. You are pulled into a world of chaos, dumped into this manic life without so much as an instruction manual. But you pick yourself up, and you pick you head up, looking up. You look up at people, follow, and do what they say. After all, they probably know…. They’ve been here longer, they’ve experienced more of the “life” that is so new and so painful. They will steer me right. Right?

I think we steer ourselves, somehow, figuring that we should divide this world into what’s right and what’s wrong. What’s up and what’s down, what’s true and what’s not true. Well, what’s true is a truth I am trying to realize. I am trying to realize, I am trying to convince myself that those five minutes is all that is true.

Five, singular, solid, waxy minutes. They stood still. Individually. Like candles, solid and sound, dripping sound into my echoing eardrums, drumming about what I already know. It’s simple in a completely ungrounded, perhaps lunatic sort of reasoning: It’s hard for me to grip this tangibility, but it’s really the only tangible thing we have. I accept that I am here, in present moment, but that’s about the only thing I can accept. I.. I feel like I am making a mess of my words, of my thoughts, they are spilling everywhere…

Ok. All I wanted to say is that I had five minutes. Five minutes of realization, panic, and concern. Five minutes of red fear that life is ending for me, and everyone. Five minutes of doubt that anyone in this entire world knows anything at all about living, about life, about death, about…. What…we….are. Five minutes of melancholy. Five minutes of heart-wrenching agony. Five minutes of a furrowed brow. Five minutes considering the possibility that I may never figure it out….whatever it is.

Little Lion Man

Weep for yourself, my man,
you’ll never be what is in your heart
weep little lion man,
you’re not as brave as you were at the start
rate yourself and rake yourself,
take all the courage you have left
wasted on fixing all the problems
that you made in your own head

but it was not your fault but mine
and it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
didn’t I, my dear?
didn’t I, my…

-Mumford and Sons

unravel and plunge

take the guess work out and where does that leave you? empty-handed, someone stole your doubt.

Go as far as the legs of reason will carry you–then leap.

as you dive, unravel and plunge, gain momentum and sink into life

Where You Stand

“You, from where you are, you cannot see the naked boy

The naked boy holds the camera

You are the naked boy before the camera

Or you are here and you are imagining the naked boy

This is not a dream and this is not a dream relationship

The boy wants to touch you

You are the other boy

The city is far away up in flames.

We’ve come a long way to be here

We said we wanted to get away from it all, but when we arrived in this place, it was all still here

It traveled with us

The histories, the bookmarks are part of your body

So all that you are is where you stand

Naked and getting more naked

A weight without weapons, a body of work

You stand at the edge of the rest of your life. This is what you stand for.

The boy stands with you, beside you, before you. The boy is the life you stand before and you are the boy standing at the edge

Stand by me. Stand by me.”

-Chris Goode

my mind forgets, like a sepia photograph slowly turning white

Memory: intangibly forever. It’s really all we have in this life. When time speeds up and our lives slow down, all we are left with is a shallow collection of memories—it’s all we have, it’s the only proof of a life lived that counts. While the ability to trap time and space within our minds is utterly glorious, it is undeniably frustrating.

As I grow, as I age, I find that my memories from yesteryear are riddled with gaping holes, leaving shreds of random recollections. While they may not be random, while there may be some subconscious grave importance to the memories I still keep, I cannot help feeling disappointed in the inability to remember every single solitary moment.

My memories are sliced into pieces, spliced together, and strung along a string. Like a kindergarten art project, my memories are hole-punched. Euphoric memories are salvaged, while dull and negative memories are excised. They are snipped from the stream of remembrance, and discarded so carelessly. They fade away, like a sepia photograph slowly turning white.

My mind buries the bad. My mind forgets, consciously concealing.

I find myself remembering only certain things; I tie these recollections down with double knots, and think about them for weeks, months, and years. I never fatigue from grasping onto these memories with clenched fists, constantly dissecting them, mulling them over, trying to dive deeper, searching for… something true.

I hold on tightly, perhaps TOO tightly. And while I desperately cling to certain events, others are forgotten. They are shoved out, dumped like trash in a gutter. I find myself disappointed in the limitations of my mind. It is devastating to know that those memories are gone—those first memories of light and sound as a newborn, the memories of walking and talking for the first time, memories of a childhood—they are all slipping away. WHY! I want to hold onto my humanity. I want to remember and reflect and ponder and know EACH day of my life. Each and every single day that I lived, that I was in existence. WHY should I have to forget.

I don’t want to forget this life. I don’t want to forget what it meant to live, what it meant to grow and evolve. I don’t want to forget the progression. I don’t want to forget myself.



his heart heavy, his head hangs…

A broken man sits at the bar, drink in one hand. His other hand sits clenched and white, full of fury. Darkness drops from his eyes. Wrinkles etched into his brow, etched with regret. His heart heavy, his head hangs.

His weathered eyelids close for a moment, as if hoping to escape, for only a moment

He opens his eyes. Takes a quiet sip. Puts his glass down and stares ahead. Gray eyes lost in a muddled past.

sweep away

there’s a spark

to start something new

something stirring inside

release, release

walk forward, barefoot

let the wind sweep past

open hands drop everything old

start anew. now.

I am, honestly and deeply, infatuated with the idea of you

I do this every time. I sit there, pining, imagining, concocting these wild fantasies in my head that you may, one day, just out of any ordinary day, notice me. See me. Look at me. Ponder about me. Think of me. Fantasize about me. I’d love it if you once, just once, looked at me with passion, with zeal, with ardor, with a longing.

When I see you pass me, when I see you walk by, my heart rate shoots. I literally feel my heart rate increase for a second, a minute palpitation, as if it has been shocked, as if electrodes jolted it. You have physiological effects on me. You face, it makes me melt, it makes me long. You smile, your boyish mannerisms, your gorgeous head of hair. I cant’ get enough. God damn.

But I’m not sure you see me. I sometimes catch you glimpse my way, sometimes see you looking at me from the corner of my eye. But I’m not sure you see me. I’ve longed for you, I’ve wanted you for much too long, and I want to let you go. I want to get rid of every feeling I have towards you, because they are useless. They are empty. They are meaningless, and most of all, they are too difficult to hold anymore. I am, honestly and deeply infatuated with the idea of you. I’ve created this God, this man, in my mind, this amazing and gorgeous man and I don’t think I know you, somehow I don’t think I ever will know you.

I want to let you go. I want to find a new man, a real man to fall in love with. A man who is amazing and handsome and sexy as hell, but more than anything, I want to be pursued, I want these feelings to be reciprocated. I want something new, fresh, and amazingly different than anything I’ve ever known.

But, over and over and over again, it seems that when you enter the room and when you gaze in my direction, my heart leaps, adrenaline pumps, and I fall more in love with this infatuation that I desperately want to become a reality.

tonight, tonight

Let’s be totally honest right now. RIGHT NOW I’m going to be totally honest with what I want. What I desperately want this year, in 2010, is… I mean how do I even verbalize it, how do I quantify it, how do I explain the inner tumultuous state of my mind. My mind tumbles and thunders, and spins and whirls. It flips and dives, it hopes and prays. My mind reaches, reaches, reaches, searching to grasp onto anything tangible, anything real, anything true. My mind reaches for truth. My mind.

I find myself looking at myself. In the mirror. I see that I’m now no longer that young child with bright eyes. I see life wearing on me, my physical self. I hate that this life, THIS life is wearing me down, slowly, slowly wearing me down- and for what? WHY? why should I be picked apart, and broken down, atom by atom. I shouldn’t, I won’t! I’ll resist, and I’ll struggle, and I’ll try to keep myself on point, I try to keep myself moving up, striding only up.

My mind reaches for an answer. My mind searches for what’s right, for what’s good. Actually. That’s false. My mind doesn’t reach for what’s right and what’s good, I mind reaches for what is. Oh what I’d give to know what is. What IS , right now, right here, in this very sentence, in this very line, in this very WORD, what IS. Maybe this doesn’t make any sense… I feel myself getting off track- I wanted to write about what I want, what my goals are, and who I plan to become in this year, THIS year of 2010.

I love 2010. I love saying it, I love writing it, I love the symmetry, I love it’s evenness, I love how it represents a new decade of life and time that has never graced the oceans and deserts, never touched this universe before. I love how 2010 is completely new and fresh. And in some odd way, I feel that with 2010, twenty-ten, (ahh that feels so good!) I can start afresh and anew too. Perhaps this is naive and sophomoric. After all, it’s just a number, it’s just a representation of this period in our lives, this moment. It’s just category, just a number that allows us to believe that we are somehow and someway moving forward. As if time is dragging us forward, whether we’d like it or not. Time tugs on, while we dig our boots into the mud, struggling to slow it down, desperately trying to hold on to what is familiar, to what we know.

I’d like to pick my feet up out of the mud and allow 2010 to fling me forward. Like a rag doll flung from a slingshot, whooshing past nonbelievers who can’t seem to unclench their hand from the rungs of past days, and past ways. I’d like to fling forward. Where I end up, I’m not so sure.

“Time is never time at all
You can never ever leave, without leaving a piece of youth
And our lives are forever changed
We will never be the same
The more you change the less you feel

Believe, believe in me, believe, believe!
That life can change, that you’re not stuck in vain
We’re not the same, we’re different.
Tonight, tonight, tonight
So bright
Tonight, tonight”

-Smashing Pumpkins

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