—3/30-’

Sanfte Klänge, Traurigkeit, Lächeln—

Something may only be granted, taken away, and permanently situated in the breeze.

Thoughts never come to an end outside of the mind.

We just keep track of what is still happening, what is on the way, and what hasn't happened yet at the beginning.

A smile only feels like an embrace when there is a breeze. When life is beautiful, painful, or uncertain, only then is it genuinely good. genuinely significant.

To give, receive, and accept love; all of it. Only I wish to embrace all parts of love. That love that bleeds from awkwardness to gush. I want the love that will sometimes kick my ass and beat me into submission.

My aggressive words define how I intend to walk the shallow, narrow, sharp, and smooth trails of life. I'll plunge in headfirst and stay until I figure out whether I want the thing or not. Not wanting something...is rare for me.

You never meet someone as greedy, hardheaded, bubbly, dark and soft as me? Chill on that. To whom am I writing this? Me? Okay, yeah, that's fine. I'm still in that phase of being more ‘me’ and less ‘it.’

It's a Monday, so I am in full throttle mode of talking to myself. How often do I talk to myself that I must jot it down and read it as if...it wasn't me. Oh, dear God...ha. Anyway, yeah... I'm made for love-I can be that.

I should know better. To be a fool is one thing...but to be a fool and expect love? Tragic. And just like that, square one has returned. Guard up. Hopes limited and neither sad or angry this time. To wish is to be left hopeless, to dream is to be hurt; and hurt? That's life. Expect nothing and everything.

ANGELINA JOLIE  Gia, 1998  – dir. Michael Cristofer

8-1

New month, new reason: the beginning of a new rhythm for all the seasons. To the tune of nothing and everything. Will it bring more than a small amount.

Little, little, and little to none. The sweetness of the past will diminish but never be swindled since it roots the world in which we live.

More will follow. There is still much to learn and questions to be resolved.

Angel.

In writing, I seek the ultimate validation from me. Not from others. I seek the validation from my past. Are I a reflection of my past self? How many candles, meditations, and cleansings do I need?

Are I doomed to forever fall flat against the marks I've made for myself? Am I not entitled to the desire for truth? What's been placed upon me, is my own burden. My own weight. I am fighting and resisting me. How do I let go?

In this case...I am the lesson. In this case...I am the bridge scorned, for believing that at such a time, I could ever feel open enough to have. Have? Have what? Even I am confused. Hell, I've burned myself twice as poster and imposter for what can be. In this case...I am the bridge scorned.

Thus I write. And I'll keep writing until my fingers are numb. Until my eyes grow tired. Until my mouth becomes dry. Until my limbs ache, my heart stops, and my mind shuts down until I am not there anymore. But I will write. My sin, my success, my tragedies, and the unknown that surrounds me.

You need to come in and conquer me. Take me down a notch from my overlapping thoughts. Knock me down with your kindness and wisdom. Just help me, and I will help you.