Not Often...

Not often, but more than rarely, I find myself feeling that perhaps- I may be lost. My ADD took me down too many sideways when I should have been on a straight road….

I ponder this while i look into the mirror at someone I am still just getting to know. I’m 100% confident in that it’s worth the time investment and 100% sure of the amount of time estimate that it’ll take to feel comfortable.

I am eager to reach that point already; Maybe I'm not so much as lost but more like I’ve now arrived into that awkward phase of time in what follows being ‘found’. Sometimes i feel like i have been gone for so long that it seems like “he” was where it felt most like home.

It’s been many days of taking them one at a time; simply wishing for the time to speed up but not at all looking forward to what it’s speeding up into. It’s like time has no value to me anymore and there isn’t anticipation for my future, no feelings of wishing to go back in the past and completely uninterested in my present moment.

Time is such an odd concept though, isn’t it? So neutral; not really working in our favor… as it seemingly just increases, never leaving us behind to forever be without the existence of it at least shown skin deep. . . as if to purposefully advertise our days we’ve been living with making our skin look like crumpled paper. And not really working with efforts in opposition as it keeps progressing because sometimes, as it progresses so can the nature of healing. When time gets paired with perspective, it can become quite interesting don’t you agree? It’s result is a new concept and no longer a general perceptive understanding, but now of a personal one, which introduces the value of it, in turn becoming different for every individual.

I have endless memories of moments’ spent thanking the sun for warming up my skin and giving me time to play with my shadow… and moments following where I’d become deaf to whatever troubled me; and in that last breath of daylight being swallowed up by this tint of shadow blue, I would completely be present. Existing in that moment I was gifted with silence and i would just watch this miraculous transition. To me it always seemed like the night were being careful to not frighten us with its darkness; introducing itself at each days’ end as if it were like we had never met.

I remember now, how I would feel so alive where days became dark and the moon would rise and never get tired of following me. Maybe that’s why I never really felt alone. Im reminded sometimes of the cravings that made me itch to getting as far from the never-ending-city-p. m. sound-fuzz; To be in the open space of fucking nowhere and hearing only the earth alive around me begging me to play truth or dare with my wonders and curiosity.

... I have not felt that bliss of the universe in any recent time, and sadly any moment i have experienced that, feel like the’re so far away as if like some echo of a daydream I had as a child. It has caused a sort of grief heavy in my chest and an ache in my heart. As if my heart understands that my spirit feels empty and dry; like I'm carrying this void continuously acknowledging what’s expected of me with results of growing disappointments and then absorbing into this space within me that has no feeling at all; whatsoever.

After this urgency of trying to obtain a grip on being aware and being mindful of time; as well as responsibility and coming to face what it truly takes to participate in this world of messy desires… I just want to evaporate into the freedom of nothingness. I just want to crumble into the particles of the planet and cry like i have never had the courage to do before; to where there is an evacuation that would take place and then every last drop of me not feeling good enough, or pretty enough, or the shame of being told my body doesn’t match my face and all the attempts I’ve made to make it match, the panic from force-fed assumptions of not even one man being able to love me for who I am instead of what I appear to be… and all the rest of my god damned bleeding insecurities could then be undressed….

And then all of my scars on my heart could be reopened wounds and then all of my tragedy could flood into the space I had fetally positioned myself into and the weight from all of these moments i’ve been told i wouldn't be truly loved; or never accepted; or would never be really cared about for more that what i’d be used for and then disposed of; could finally take place- Could finally just do to me what I’ve been so afraid of ever since i was made aware of their existence in possibility.

I would raise my white flag and surrender instead of routinely continue to run from all the ‘maybe’s’ and “but what if’s” that have poisoned me;.

Perhaps in what would follow i could then have the chance for rediscovering the magnificence of what it is to dream… and my will to dream and cheerlead my courage in chasing a vision that I would paint to motivate my ambition-.

Which would then bring encouragement to work hard in reaching the goal that my heart could remind and provoke my passion which in turn would speak to my heart; and my soul would hear it and could inspire my strength which would then be brave enough to stand in supporting my believing I could achieve it.

And then the sun rises as do the people and the never ending busy fuss of judgement and assumptions begin chirping and the travel of projected baggage carrying grows louder and louder and there I become lost in the process of prevention. I get lost in an effort of trying to protect my already weakened sense of being amongst the walls and the layers I’ve made in forgotten places inside my mind; and all that exists now is the consideration of whether I might just be lost and looking to forget him that was once ‘home.’.