My heart is too widely open
I could be crouched down with a blade pressed to my skin
But if someone would then and there need me, I’d forget all the hate and hurt, just for them, temporarily
To have it waiting for me when I return to myself
I will still, help, love, care
Even if I can’t do any of those for myself
My heart is too widely open
But the love flows one way
Because I don’t know how to receive
I’m not blaming anyone else
It’s not self pity either
Just a reality I either have to get used to
Or find a way to change
But what makes me think, that after 15 years of trying
Now I will succeed?
Be Thankful.
Are you supposed to be thankful for something you didn’t want or ask for? Whether it’s good or bad to you, whether it’s well intended or not.
Should you only be thankful for things that are good for you? Or only the ones that were well intended, regardless of the result? Or should you just be thankful for everything that happens and comes to you? Because everything has a reason, a cause, a goal, a purpose.
Confirmation or Confrontation ?
It’s easy to look away and drown yourself in distractions.
Why not for once be courageous and face the confrontations,
regardless of their outcome…
What’s the worst that could happen ?
You hurt, you learn.
You suffer, you grow.
You break, you heal.
You die, you won’t be alive to remember it anyway.
So what’s the big deal ?
Go on and dive right in, head first, your heart will follow. Your soul is immortal but your body wil decay anyway. Might as well take that chance.
It could lead to self destruct, tough luck. There’s not much you can’t recover from, all your past struggles bringing you right here are already proof of your strength.
It could also lead to a plentiful blossoming of your self, your awareness, your power of happiness. There’s so much more to gain if you’re just willing to give it a try.
Losses are part of life, standing still is part of death.
Your choice. Confirmation or confrontation ?
You Revive Me.
You revive me…
♥ Like a breath of fresh oxygen on a dusty pile of smoldering ashes
♥ Like breaking through the surface of the water after the dive turned out too deep
♥ Like finally waking from a recycling dream of thinking you got up and started your day but each time you were still sleeping
♥ Like cleansing my skin after a long day surrounded by a dirty world with scentful soap and warm water
♥ Like that first bite of something delicious to still a hunger from too many hours of working too hard
♥ Like a hug that connects every particle of the universe together in an infinite alignment of our past, present & future selfs, showing us we’re ours 💕
The danger of a lone being.
The scariest part of being alone is not the loneliness.
It’s the forceful necessity to have only yourself to count on and deal with, in every situation, through every cognition and emotion, during every smile or teardrop, and every breath that falls too heavily.
While part of you suffers from urges to end all existence & an equally desperate part is looking anxiously to find purpose, still. Those being only two minor examples of the thousands and thousands of scattered pieces of self that constantly reflect and contradict one another.
It’s easy to get lost inside the mazes of your own heart and mind intertwined, when your soul feels trapped and the only way out is out of or through yourself. But what if there’s nothing, no one, outside of yourself to reach out to? Nobody you can truly trust, nobody to have meaningful interaction, nobody to share or exchange ideas and thoughts with, nobody to empathize or care with you.
I don’t claim to need anyone, but I don’t believe any person is capable of carrying their entire life by themselves one hundred percent of the time.
Of course, essentially, in all beginning and ending as well as most of the time in between, we are just ourselves by ourselves. But what becomes of this self, if it is only that connection you have… for days, becoming weeks, turning into months, building up to years. How does one grow out of themselves if all they have as reference, is their self, their own, alone, always…?
How dangerous can you become, by yourself, before interference becomes obvious? Who is to draw the line, but yourself, turning the whole thing into pure rhetorical irony?
To take it a little further, because why not? Or actually, because why not.
Who will then, when the line is drawn and interference becomes inevitable, be the one to step in between and flip the switch? Which switch would flipping become to have the mostly preferred result? What is this result supposed to be looking alike?
Who decides all this, or anything, the self that chose to become dangerous just because its possibility was an endless option, or the one who found cautiousness significant enough to inquire for change, or any of the other infinite varieties of self that have potential to be puzzled together from all the scattered pieces alone?
Loneliness
The scariest part
of being alone
is not the
loneliness
– Truth Beyond Mystery
Being alone.
What scares me most?
Loneliness. Because I live it.
What I want most?
Solitude. The only way I can be myself.
See my dilemma here?
What I crave and hate most deeply at the same time:
Being alone. With my only enemy, my only companion, me…
Be greatness that chose beginning, to become liberty.
I have only sadness
To carry me through
This darkened night
That chose.
To last a lifetime
Through me
I feel betrayed by
My own senses
By what I didn’t
Or what I might
Confused to say the least
I remember hardly
What I wanted or
Who I used to be
I suppose I also don’t
Know what lays next
Or who I’m supposed
To become.
I guess it’s up to me
Who ever that would be
Carefully separated
But chaotic in creation
Undermining my own
Greatness.
Over an urge
To persuade myself
Into dauntlessness
I have to be alone
Realizing every
Now and then, again
I don’t want to live
In loneliness
Or any kind of confinement
Any shape of concession
Any form of censorship
I crave freedom
Seeking liberation
From whatever
I cage myself in
Could quite possibly
Be…
My real mission
Here, in this life
At the very littlest
Beginning.
If any other
Are only additions to a truer essence of
What qualifies to define as my own
Liberty.
Rainy day & Falling star
I think that’s what I’ve done with you when I met you. You are both a rainy day and a falling star. You are a miracle and magical. You’re melancholia and nostalgia. To me, you’re the entire spectrum and realm of all things good and bad combined. I think you are what life is trying to teach me. My lesson, my reason, my ending…
Love is a gamble. Always.
I feel like a tirelessly exhausted gambling addict.
Every time I lose, the stakes get raised and I always go all in. I don’t ease into it, I don’t wait or ponder whether I have the right cards. I don’t seem to worry about the outcome, I apparently have nothing to lose. Every time again, I believe this time my luck will have turned to face me in my favor. Every time I have my hopes set on the power of faith to work its magic for me just once more. Every time I get burned, broken and beat down. I cry, self destruct, mourn my failure, grief my own downfall. Then I gather my loose pieces and my losses together and reach deep into the infinite bottomless pocket of love cash that is my heart. Only to play again, only one more time. Always.
Maybe somewhere in the back of my mind I know that the house always wins and we’re all being scammed for the mere disillusionment that we could have it all and gain even more if we just play it right, if we just get in touch with that one stroke of luck. Maybe one day I’ll learn to walk away as soon as my winning streak is over. But instead I still sit here, betting more of myself than I actually have to give, just riding along on the hope, the wish, the dream, the faith that soon my luck will return. Or love.
Truth Beyond Mystery 