1.3.13 3am It’s funny how I always wanted to start off an entry like I’m stealing from fiction. I keep telling myself: “start a blog.” And here I am trying to keep myself as mysterious as possible? It’s ironic to have to come to terms with an my vision, which is:
..at least, what I would tell myself.. ” is that I’m human, and I want interaction, but I refuse to admit that I want it as bad as everyone else. I’ve convinced myself that I want it for myself, with my insecurities intact. ” The comfortable state of being myself slowly dwindled away at the thought of expressing myself by marketing myself by being self-driven yet living as the best self you can be sounds like every pre-written motto in every training video.
At any rate,
It’s been s u b l i m e .
I love it here. I could be further away from thi paranoia, the anxiety, the weariness, the agony, the struggle, of, fully, expressing, one, self.
What I’m trying to convey is my meaning behind my passion. I want to live a life holding close my perspective on life. By all means, I will express myself freely, exercising my perspective, and focusing on every moving moment happening within my reach.
I’m feeling as if.. I’m tiring myself out. And as I need to, I r e a d myself – a little more. I dig deeper into what I’m l o o k ing for and I suddenly find it – faster and then I think I have it; and then I acknowledge it. Yet, I exactly don’t forget what I was intending on to begin with.
Oh, how must I be to be feeling this feeling.
It just happens and I find a deep hole to reach into. Illuminating thousands of sessions. I break them down and give myself in[to] more. I leave every expectation at the door and Follow my senses forward. It gives me shivers to think about how everything could be just a flaw. And we’re all here together to fix it.
the time once spent thinking about what I was going to be,
drained, and wrung itself into a thousand,
spreading diseased thoughts,
a competitive nature, ran it’s course,
and delve into the los angeles river,
along with the ideology that,
losers never win.
today isn’t going to be like that day,
today isn’t yesterday,
today is to be a day, unlike yesterday,
unlike ambition, there is no anxiety for success,
a rainfall that’s certain to happen,
and a romance that’s certain an offspring,
letting nature run it’s course,
brought new identity to an already beautiful one,
the hope that we never change our view upon an old scenery,
depends on what we thought ourselves to be yesterday,
shall we grow,
shall we grow,
beloved sun drenched shoulder blades,
you rummage in my pockets, looking for the note that’ll set you free.
and everything will make sense, much after it is found,
and the waves we’ll feel,
and the waves will disappear,
an invisible force,
makes it’s way into our bodies,
and we move like the waves do,
and we reach further into our pockets,
and we drown deeper in through the outside of ourselves tonight.
Letting the inside, fully take-outside of you.
From what we are.
and what we’ve been through.
the complexity of our images,
allure the whole new feeling,
that we won’t fight away without the night by our side.
and when we’ve given enough thought to our lives about where we’ve been,
spending those times with people and places and scenarios upon scenarios.
We run to escape the times.
Yet the anti still chases my mind through the light.
Stuck, is what it feels like.
But that’s not what I am.