Why am I so hard on myself? And therefore, abrasive to others. However, that is not the topic of discussion.
For a good chunk of my twenties I spent most of my life experiencing myself and my soul as poetry. I lived to be a poetic analogy. I have always thought in metaphors. Through any medium which caught me by an inspirational wave, I would set sail and explode into any colors and textures that medium demanded. From travel modeling, to writing, sexual escapades, photography, playing drums or guitar - fleeting merriments.Β
One way to look at it was a cycle of giving up. Nothing was ever enough. And even to this day, a much different person than the gypsy soul I was, I still am on that merry-go-round of never-enough-ness.Β
When do the waters calm? Where is the clarity? It comes in pockets of each day - a radiating, unexplainable, calmness - when I look into the eyes of another and share words from a present mind; Slow, steady, no anxiety.. When I see the blue sky and the trees, there is peace. And then think of how we are turning into a world where they want to abandon the realness of nature, to go somewhere unreal and digital. Are we already in the Meta? We live in a world where many peoples minds are already so disconnected from their bodies, their souls.Β
I presently have huge hurdles to overcome in life, and my inconsistency in perception of myself, of my values, in conjunction of where the world is heading, I have a reeling sense of apathy, a habit of repression and distraction. In fact, I bet a lot of people can relate to that, if they would subject themselves to a mere moment of awareness and honesty. So many times in life I have thoughtΒ βI wish I didnβt feel anything, I wish I was numbβ. But lately, I am happy that I have always been a feeler as much as an analytic. I am happy to ALSO be able to feel joy when it comes, or gratitude, or peace. Iβll take those emotions with sad and disconnect, because itβs human, because itβs worth it. If I were numb, I wouldnβt be here for myself, and therefore anyone else. A part of me feels like I am letting the path unfold for me, pointing the flashlight at the ground in front of me, instead of trying to point it ahead where there is no end, no resolution, just a daunting fuzz of the unknown. This is just a vent that airs on possibility of positivity with a rim salted with darkness.
