These Two Are Not The Same

Not the same as when I first was introduced. Not the same as when I first loved, cared, and belonged.

I am an oddly placed plastic mannequin in the room of two lonely statues. They are grey and brittle. What is to be done of a statue, so familiar, when cracked and shaken? Plastic is only tolerant to so much weight. 

I must leave now but timid to leave such a quiet ruin. Not for its beauty, but for its pain I must let it rest and let time heal the wounds.

Cowgirl

...in the sand,
pack your things, saddle up your horse, eat well tonight for tomorrow will be a long ride, over mountains with snow and valleys with rivers.

The season is right. The birds are singing our farewell and the sun is shining a path towards our future.

Follow close behind cowgirl in the sand. The world is easily deceiving and quickly depleting of originals.

An Anniversary

If only. If only it had come. If only we'd of lasted. If only we were wiser.

I could hear the trumpets playing to welcome us in but they were all too distant. I could smell the evergreens on the other side but they were all too faint.

You said I was too young. You doubted my sight of the decades that would soon present themselves to us. The years would become isolated like 1950's commercials had shown for years. Although I was a dreamer, I admit, I saw reality. You just needed to take into consideration that the reality in which I saw was also glazed with a cherry red finish.

You are not a dreamer. You are a Realist. A Realist so explicit that you get lost in the simplicity of  reality. Of the fact that people do live happy together, people do truly love each other once in a while. People do finish their years happy. The band is there to play for them, for us. If only we're their to hear it.

If only.

Nowhere

I'm in the air... no ground beneath me, no sky above. I'm not falling any more than I am flying. There's no glow of joy on my face, no cry for help in my eyes. I am stagnant. I am stale. And life passes by.

Insomnia

Night after night, sun light to lamp light, I lay and I stand, neither of which my eyes are closed. I enjoy solitude at times, when I can hear myself.  I enjoy it also when a million thoughts cannot parade my mind. My dreams are a capsule of a much different solitude. If only I could stop this, stop writing, stop thinking. Stop the monotonous cycle of being.

Loosing Myself, Only to be Found

I ran as fast as I could to the adrenaline that pulled me. As fast as I fell, I arose internally. Although I hit walls and went down one way streets, I did not stop. My feet did not stop moving. My life is propelled by the unknown, not by fear. I have no regret. I live to learn and I learn by experience. Experience is how I learned to love.

Sharing

I finally realized why it is that I enjoy blogging. If I am honest with myself, I am living many different lives. I have lived these lives for quite some time. These alternative life styles aren't bad, but I guess it is all in ones perspective. I feel at peace with my life and the decisions I make, however, I know that some of those surrounding me would not agree if they knew exactly how I lived.

It is liberating to know that I have exposed my deepest thoughts into the open. I have, in a sense, tied my secrets to a balloon and set it free. Someone may some day read my inner struggles and might, for a second, sympathize. Sharing human emotions may be all we have in this life.

Most of the time I feel I am protecting them from needless despondency. Other times I challenge myself with a looming thought of self artifice. "With years of evil wear, has my mind given in to the indulgent pleasures of this world?" This is a question I would ask myself at the genesis of my independence. A sense of searching has always been encompassed in me. I just often wonder what the odds are for me to be born into the "right" religion. After the birth of my carte blanche, I felt more real than I ever had before. I felt that my blank piece of paper finally needed color and understood why. This was the start of my discord. I was raised to keep a pure white paper.

As a child I was taught and saw battles of good and evil. I was taught the value of children's eyes and minds, only now to be told that those same eyes and minds are naive. This makes me wonder who is truly naive. How do I know, if I know nothing else?

For now, I will live. For as long as I live, I will love. That is all I know for certain.