It's been nearly 6 years since I've posted...time moves much to quickly.

The last few days I've been thinking a lot about my life. When I was 15 I remember thinking about how bad my life was, how isolated and lonely I often felt. But now, at 32, I feel this even more. When I was 15 I would spend hours writing, drawing, painting, KNOWING I was going to amount to something, full of youthful optimism and passion. At 32 I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. There is no faith that I will become something I'm proud of, no passion, no creativity, just the ever constant voice in my head saying, "tomorrow is when I'll...", but I never do...I've been saying this for years. Literal years, and I have yet to practice yoga, yet to have an art show, yet to find purpose and BE something. There is no more passion in my life, no more zest for the unknown, no more comfort in myself just doing anything. I'm always searching for the thing that will light the passion, light the creativity, bring me back some of that vigor and curiosity for life.

At 15 there was not the 32 years of stacked rejection, critiques, and judgement. I felt like there was, but I didn't live like there was. Today, I live as if I've already been tossed aside, that everything I do is not enough, that nothing will get me to my desired outcome. All the voices telling me it's not good enough, or why do I even try whisper incessantly every time I make moves to do something more. And the guilt I feel everyday I don't is even worse.

Giraffes are your nemesis. Men are mine. You gifted me with a weapon for the zombie apocalypse, I had an equally awesome gift planned for you.

a simple veil

A simple veil shrouds me from society. The clouds that have been overhead all week aren't helping. Tonight is Friday, and I have spent it hoping my phone would light up with an invitation for adventure. It's been a long while since I have declared myself stagnant enough to put my action in the hands of another. I am typically the rouser (apparently not a word, but I will pretend I am Shakespeare for the moment...) of my compatriots. It's a rare feeling to allow my fate to something that I know will not transpire. It's like a warm blanket and a bottomless pit all at once. A warm bottomless pit of blankets...? I think that I need to fill my time with something, but having no deadlines or rules to regulate me, I find myself researching things on the internet, like how LSD was the death of God, and how if you can solve a simple word problem that has no relevance in real life that somehow makes you smarter than others. The internet is a vast fount of ridiculous knowledge, and I am truly mesmerized.

The end...or is it the beginning?

Knowing oneself may be the single hardest thing to do in the world.

The power of writing

Oft times I find myself in a state of reflection, attempting to synthesize what's happened in my life, the lessons I should learn from those things, and what my journey may look like in the immediate future. At current, I'm struggling to make logical connections between these elements. I tend to become most reflective when alone, alone without a partner to allow me some purpose outside of myself.

I've recently been thinking of the human condition and what that looks like in different societies. As a person who makes an income that is well below the poverty line in the United States, but also a person of great luck in that I have few bills, I'm still living a comfortable life. My biggest worries are dealing with the emotional stress of a terminally ill father, and my personal struggle to find happiness. Admittedly the former issue is one that holds some gravity, but as I'm a person who accepts the process of living and dying, the greatest struggle is with how to get all the legalities dealt with while he's still around to answer questions. Truly not that earth-shattering of a hardship. The latter issue, in comparison to what others have to endure is trite. Here I am with all of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs met, and I'm so consumed with myself I struggle with emotional happiness. Seriously? My life is so fulfilled I must search for reasons to work on my happiness, I have the time to wonder aloud what I need to do to find this. Aren't there greater struggles in the world I should be putting my time and thoughts toward? Yes there are.

I love writing...here, the synthesis has happened. The lesson: how to have purpose outside of yourself and to not be so self absorbed. The journey: volunteer, get out of your own space and head, live for others whatever that means.

The Snow Flies and So Do You

It'll be a long winter without you

Cold feet and a shallow heart beat.

A heart seems to break harder when the weather turns harsher.

Your voice fills my ears and empties my soul

I only wanted you to pull me closer.

How to describe differently what has been written about for centuries?

A broken heart hurts the same, no matter the name.

A cold change

Heart beats, can't sleep

Tears stream, words scream

Faint smells bring me to my knees.

Returned your key to try to get you to agree things are not in line.

The time flies too slowly for my liking

The moon gleams to brightly to see the shadows that take you from me.