Trust is stained on my lips, my hands, my heart. I can’t help but allow it to depart. Now in these single days and hours that feel so long, perhaps there will be a time when trust won’t feel so wrong.
In everything I’m meant to be, writing will be solace for me. Something comfortable and clean. It won’t ever be mean.
In the absence of cruelty and the essence of confusion, I don’t understand this particular intrusion. My fingers on my pulse and my hair up in a bun, maybe this day I’ve won.
My heart beats steady, just like it should. Beating to the rhythm of the melody within my own head, perhaps it could. And in these darkening nights and haunting curtains, perhaps to be comfortable, I would.
In this silence that encompasses reality, there’s just something that can’t touch this simplicity. It should be complicated, but caught within I know I was wrong. Indeed; I did write this song. And now in every direction I turn, for you it is that I yearn.
Thinking myself to burnt out, the words no longer coming to my mind. I am not burnt out, but simply having to mine for the words that line my very thoughts. I never thought I would be filled with infinite possibilities; but with disabilities.
Nothing can stop me from dancing to the renegade’s song. On my own I am strong. I make my own path, take part in my own life. Making passageways through the labyrinths that are mine. Mine and mine only. To me, they are holy.
I love who I am for once, and I will never give up this chance to do so. To my own self-love, I will never say no.
Struggling to speak these words of the horror that torments my mind. However, I know that these things will be okay, and my life is mine.
Listening to Celtic music and feeling sick from the weather; a dragon journal made out of leather. Filled with my thoughts and ideas, it will always be there for me in my darkest of eras.
Not knowing what to do, but knowing that nightmares cannot manifest themselves into life; it’s something that would be met with strife.
Though these things plague my very being, they will not find themselves in favor of my seeking happiness. And now with them in my mind, I will reclaim what’s mine.
My own mind.
To write is to become immortal. These scripted words upon this worn out page.
This is something I recently learned. I’m fascinated with writing and in love with it now more than ever.
I love to write because it helps me to understand myself, and how I’m feeling. Been recently I’ve been feeling a little burnt out. I apologize for that. Perhaps writing so much a day took it out of me! Either way, I feel exhausted. But one thing is for sure: I’ll never get tired of writing.
Swinging among the trees to an empty melody. I want to see time freeze as I feel this gentle breeze. Through my auburn hair and hazel eyes, I can promise that they don’t cry. For now I’ve found my solace, dancing in my own dreamland, with no worry to be had.
To understand is to experience, and to experience is to risk it all. I might surely fall, but somehow I’ve been caught in a net; one that saves my life now. I wonder how I could feel if I went all the way to not allow others to steal my happiness. They cannot instill sorrow within me.
Still burdened by things of the past, I am not yet entirely free. But this person, yes, I can be. And in the crescent moon I adore I search for fulfillment no more.
In lands far away, I see these lonely days stretch into months, years, infinity. There’s nothing I can do right now other than love myself. There’s nothing I can do but trust that it will get better.
And it will.
Trust is not something that comes easy to me, but something that fails to be. I find myself cynical of everything, questioning every word that every person says. I wonder if it’s the truth or if I’m being lied to; it’s something I’ve taught myself to do.
I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it yet. But it will come soon, I bet. The way that I’ll understand my true feelings about this world and its danger, and to let go of my anger. To be the adult I want and need to be, but to also take care of me.
So many things swirling around, it’s hard to find solid ground. It’s almost like I’m bound, destined to respond to these sounds.
Bold text and even more bold actions, I would love to be someone worth knowing with my fractions of everything that makes me who I am; a patchwork quilt of everything that makes up the organism that is ‘me’.
In these little lies, I search to find the truth among their lives. It seems tedious but wise, and I won’t ever fail to realize. These days are hard, but things will get better. That’s what tomorrows are for.
And as I’ve written these words on this blog the past few weeks, I’ve found myself happier and more at peace than I’ve ever been, thanks to the safety I feel within now to express myself in the ways that I need to; all in order to speak the truth to you.
As I cherish these things that I have, I feel for others who don’t. I wish there was a way that I could give to them, but I can’t. Because of these circumstances I found myself bound by happenstance.
I don’t want this blog to be entirely dedicated to me, I want to speak of others as well. I wish to be a humanitarian in every sense, because of the way these people fell. And because of the ache in my heart I feel when I see these things, their truths I will tell.
I know this may seem random, but I have thought of this for years. Though I stopped myself because of my own fear. The fear of being judged, but now that disappears. Because these people cry real tears.
Hopefully charity in the making, I certainly am not faking the sorrow I feel when I see another soul suffer. It’s something I wish to never see upon another.
So as I speak these things on my mind and rhyme these rhymes, I will hopefully come to the time where with these words, I can make a difference. Truly.
Feeling insane, I hope I won’t forget the name of those who gave me wings. Feeling weak and in pain, I’m not going to allow myself to fall from these promises, even though love compromises.
I refuse to find myself in a place where I no longer care. I am a loyal person to a fault, my loyalty is like a vault. The secrets and feelings of friends and family alike will never leave its metal enclosure within my heart. I hope that you will also take part.
I am short of sanity and manically trying to find the answer to the questions I pose. It is little more than simple prose.
I love to read and soon I’ll need to find more material to fuel my ever-growing mind. I find that these actions aren’t entirely mine but part of a sign of something bigger, something that is simply benign.
And in these closing prayers I’ll taste the autumn air, as if silk brushes my lungs, darkness far-flung away from me and my peace.
I will cherish this while it’s here; while this peace and tranquility is near.
In desolate places and derelict spaces, I see the faces of the future. Those that deserve to have their voices heard.
As I look around myself I find it hard to find what I should see: the reality of those around me. Yet I cannot, because it is covered up; something I will never truly understand.
Aches and pains and trickling rain. Although I ache for the future, I also ache for the sameness that comes about upon every nook and cranny of every alley. People of the world deserve to have their voices heard, not dismissed as they have been.
Magazines draw me in and despite my knowledge of lies in the media, I choose what I believe. I believe in the day when we can sit side by side and stay together as one. That we could have fun.
Reading these issues of the world, I wish I could help, but I find myself helpless in a situation where I have not experienced what others have. I don’t understand the discrimination, and perhaps I never can. It’s not within my hands.
Still, even as a girl with porcelain skin and green eyes, I will devise what plans I can to help those who need it. It’s not as simple as speaking about it; I want to do something.
But still I find myself within this room, attached to my sickness, attached to my lack of knowledge of the outside world.
Maybe someday, though, I’ll find a way to change the world.
I will step forward and try to be the very best version of me. But how could I be the best version of me when that’s something even I can’t see?
As I earn my place among them, and I fight to collect these rhymes, I will have to let go of those times. The times where it seemed everything fell out of place and everything I ever needed to far for me to reach, and too painful for me to face. I’d love to be among them, as confident as a queen, as elegant as lace. And despite my worries, it will never be too late.
Two long months, it seems. An eternity to me. Perhaps these clever miracles will show me all that I’m meant to be.
Bare without a name, I write mine on the walls of a small cave among the rocky shore, something they’ll always remember when they come back for more. As I desire to be known in this way, I’ll understand that my judgment can’t sway.
There will be so many watching, waiting, and anticipating. Whether I do the right thing or mess up. I’m not willing to give it up for certainty and security. Being everything that I want to be.
And solace within me can always be the freedom I’ll always need.