An Eclectic Twenty-Something

You don’t tell people you’re not okay,“ she said, “because it’s hard watching them not know what to do. “Then you end up comforting them, even though the one who needed comforting was you.

it’s wild how the older you get, the more you see and experience - the smaller your mind gets. it’s as though it is afraid of wondering, afraid of the outcome of curiosity because it has wandered into fire before. it hurts that I used to feel so much more. to be changed by art once and now my soul is frigid and afraid. how do I stay malleable and yet strong against the tenacious heat of reality? if only my spirit would melt in the hot sun, liquid gold to be stirred and always glistening in the movement of being. but instead brick walls are built around it so I feel nothing. I protect myself so much that I am empty and I ache for this. is it freedom to feel? should I live each moment like a meteor, bright and blazing on a constant current though I know I will burn out in the end? these questions haunt me with each burst of blood from my vessels because what else matters besides being? as I slowly decay my spirit rages on with each breath whispering, “Be.“