Open journal

Here we are, trapped in the amber of this moment. There is no why. – Kurt Vonnegut

Open journal. Pick lines at random. What remains truthful?

When the sun rises she’s flirtatious. Dancing rays are cast through the window; they flicker over bare flesh and stale sheets. There is so much to do today. My mind is racing as it can, does, often will, with words and a flood of chaotic ideas so overwhelmingly weighted I sink deeper into the mattress. In order to pace this growing mind mess I need to move, but the sun flickers are hypnotic and there are warm, delicate, ballerina rays skipping softly down my back. The nape of her neck. I’ll stay just a while longer. Like the slow migration of glaciers I reluctantly inch my tired body in one direction, then another. In silent tongue I beg my mind to wait, but seldom does it ignore the clatter. Hey! There is so much to do today.

We lounge on deck chairs cluttered on rooftops and drive deep into unfamiliar spaces. You can’t fool us, our expectations are high and we made them that way with clear intention. We’re gonna’ keep trying until we can’t no more. Our fingertip’s may bleed clinging onto vague hope with dear life but hey, we’re breathing, deeply. Quickly. Loudly. We’re scared as hell but at least we know what it means to truly be ALIVE. At least, that’s what we say. Empty tummy’s and dusty pockets but we’re okay, okay?

Write for no one but yourself.

All these years past and sometimes we still ache for one another; an invisible and frightful cord, both too frightened to truly cut it off, severe the tired tie and be freed in all entirety.

The earth is calling me and I’m stuck here sinking in slow burning concrete. We weren’t birthed to live this way.

I see your heart exploding, I think to myself, but mine grows heavier at the constant mind keeping, sweeping, fluttering about you, hands outstretched ready to catch it should it be ripped from your chest once again. Ready to repair it. Mend it. Stitch it all up. Glue it messily back together. Next time I think I’ll simply watch it drop and shatter on the floor.

It is confronting to reflect on thoughts of hours past; Musings about making the boldest of marks whilst sitting here amongst you all, fading into the background with little to show.

I don’t need anyone to run away with. But it would be easier to run away with someone.

I am laughing so hard I lose complete awareness of time and space and you and me and – OH. I am glad I am here. This moment is life.

What a beautiful, glorious surge. I can almost see it pulsating throughout her delicious form. Little golden rivers gushing through strong veins like fresh warm water through adventure canals. How wonderful it is to be in the company of the inspired! How foolish I was to earlier believe I had been too idealistic, optimistic and dreamy. Why do I let them get to me?

Still shut up in this tiny gypsy hole and the walls look so familiar sometimes. They make my stomach churn on restless nights.

Here I am, I think to myself, surrounded by all these people, and I can’t quite shake the lonely. I swallow up all the noise and casually make them all laugh with a shrug. Then, in the quiet corners, I remain as I consistently seem to be; Always alone.

We are children of the earth sitting in constructed plastic boxes and it isn’t changing yet.

It is winter. The air is painfully cold and I’m wearing silly shoes to be at the beach. I’m bundled up, but the ocean is too tempting, too inviting. I want to be cleansed. This secret cove feels untouched, ancient and preserved, a rarity, a real hidden gem. As I wade in my legs feel like they are turning to stone. An abrupt sting and then it is a deep, dull ache climbing up my shaky frame. When I finally gain the courage and dive under before emerging from the crystal foam, there is an instant tranquil sensation wrapping around my creaky bones. In that simple moment I feel reborn, recharged. A pure and instant rebirth. I’m not done yet by any means.

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