My dreams are impossible, but they are real.
I think, what I want most in life is to scare people. I just want to really terrify them. Just to really wake them up. To make them see EVERYTHING. To make them stop everything. All the delusions and fear, they surround themselves with. AND JUST LOOK. Just see what there is. And I want them to marvel and be vulnerable and fragile. I want them to stop being brave and stubborn. I want them to be valorous. And to just look and for their hearts to pound, and their bodies to tremble. For them to be consumed by fear and wonder for what is. For them to behave human.
Let them say, NO, she did not hide under cosmetics! Under the disguise of foggy eyeshadow and enchanting blush. Let them say, she put on her war paint, in a way that could not hide her. Darkened her eyes, and refreshed her bloody lips. If anything, it made her more apparent, more fierce. A force to be reckoned with.
Everything begins and ends with you, much like life and death.
Life doesn’t work if you don’t open yourself to the vulnerability of it. Anything is possible, and that is what makes the beauty of everything here, so fragile.
I use to try to look as attractive as I could all the time, like I had something to prove. I could fool everyone, but I couldn’t fool myself. I could look as beautiful as Angelina Jole on the outside, but it wouldn’t register to me on the inside. The things you believe in and invest faith in, give them energy and power. You can try to look beautiful all you want, but if you don’t believe it… Then it is just another object to attain.
Beauty is like life, it can’t be attained, it just is. If you believe in your worth. Your worth will show you who you really are. I dress up only when I feel pretty now, which still isn’t as often it should be, but baby steps. Mostly though, I don’t feel compelled to prove anything anymore. I found that all I had to “prove” laid buried at the surface. Like buried treasure waiting to be cherished.
The more I settle and unwind. The more faith I have in the being Life and the Great Creator made me to be. The easier I find the answers to what I always questioned. The less I fight my existence, the more my purpose is unraveled and revealed. The more I stop trying to fight and force the Creator, the more connected I become with it.
In this clarity I find, I see the absolute. Even if I can’t see my hands in front of me. I know something is there. Just beyond my reach. Just within my grasp. Just waiting. I am ready. It has been a long time coming. We have both been waiting. That Great Essence and I.
I just had to learn the true meaning of patience. Which isn’t sacrificing yourself for others. It’s being patient enough with others ignorance. To accept who you are, for them, and honor yourself. Most of all to forgive all the lost children. For they know not what they do. They do not know. I have learned to silence my ego and expectation. It is proud of me to expect anything of others. Especially when I know I know so little myself.
No matter how old we are. No matter how much we know. We are all lost children of the Profound Creator. Only when we fulfill our purpose, do we know. Can we understand home and love. We are all intermingling beings connected by our ties that are never ending and ever moving in a direction that is beyond our understanding.
As long as we can marvel. As long as we can learn. As long as we have faith. We are completing our purpose. That is the most lovely mission. I think by understanding our ignorance, we accept and honor our inner Creator. Where it lays inside of us, dormant and perennial. Waiting, like the silent respiration between each heartbeat.
I think sometimes the people that irritate us most. Are the ones we care for most. That is why they set such an uproar in our hearts. Because the things they do consume our minds.
I am this being. In this moment. And that is unique.
Be a slut. Do whatever you want. All the people that judge you are going to die someday anyway. Along with all their shit opinions.
Write about your strongest memory of heart-pounding belly-twisting nervousness: what caused the adrenaline? Was it justified? How did you respond?
I have been in alot of messy situations. I am not one to usually to give in to fear, I am too prideful in that regard. To be overcome by own body disturbs be to a certain degree. I can not remember a moment that stands out the most. Since it takes a great degree of self-doubt and exponential danger to unsettle me and get my pulse racing. So I will just name one that pops in my head first.
Sometimes I get really anxious and mad at the same time. Most likely I get mad at the same time I am anxious because I am not comfortable with other people seeing me intimidated. I also don’t like the fact that it is possible to intimate me. Most of the time when someone tries to intimate me I end up laughing out of plain amusement or out of a sort of defence mechanism. Most of the time I can’t take it seriously. I can’t stand when people try to intimate me. Most of the time it makes me pretty angry and it makes me lose respect for the people who try to take advantage of me by trying to intimidate me. It makes me think that you have no respect for me as a person, that you have to resort to belittling me. Instead of just talking things out with me or treating me fairly. With that being said keep this piece of information in mind when reading the following story.
The latest was being accused of something I didn’t do. The person who accused me I admired and wanted to expect more of, but lets say I wasn’t too surprised this person gave into the influence of others. I was majorly disappointed and a bit disheartened. I felt betrayed. I told this person what I thought of them recently before and this person had tried to reassure me they were differently entirely from the assessment I made. Which had been one of honest disapproval and distrust. This person swore up and down that they were trustable and reliable. I think I was justified in my mistrust and within good reason too.
I just remember feeling this anger and betrayal emancipating from this person and the look of outrage that had immersed that person. Without even asking or considering what my reply would be, they had already given into the belief of the other person. Written me off. It was ironic really. We were both swarming in the same emotions for different reasons. Me for being dishonored. This person because they had been seen for entirely who they were by another person. Mad because I wouldn’t believe a lie that that person couldn’t even live up to. Perhaps it was the same reason after all, maybe we both felt dishonored in different ways.
In the end I ended up blowing this person off with a bullshit answer. The way they blew me off with a bullshit misjudgement. I knew it was just an excuse. Things had become too intimate for comfort at times with this person. This person wasn’t easy with intimacy. Had been looking for an excuse to slip out of our acquaintanceship for quite a while. I had been looking for a way to reassure this person or slip quietly out of the relationship.
I remember being really fucking anxious to talking to this person. I had already seen the look of judgement and betrayal on this persons face and right then something in me just broke a little. Another person judging me. Another person who had no faith in me. Another person to fade into the background with the rest of the world. I knew just by looking on this person that whatever intimacy we shared had came to a shattered fragmented end. Right when there eyes meant mine. I knew were done.
That profound recognition resonated through my whole body because there was only one other time I ever felt that way with this person. The second time I met them. The time I decided I really genuinely liked this person. Right after I acknowledged that decision a feeling of complete apprehension washed through me. I knew I shouldn’t and couldn’t like this person. I knew it was bad for me to even admire them. Even as just a subject. I knew an innocent benevolent part of me felt a raw endearment for this person and a forbidden attraction. Even to a certain artistic love an artist has for a muse.
It was forbidden this admiration, I knew this. As if I felt it before, in another person. Another time. Perhaps this was deja vu. Perhaps a soulmate. Perhaps another life meeting another life. The apprehension, heart wrenching recognition of tragedy and wishful thinking. I had been thinking of being merciful. Just letting it go and just be written off once again.
This person hadn’t even had the guts to say I don’t feel comfortable with our relationship anymore. They expected me to go quietly. How the fuck had I earned that treatment? I remember going over this all in my head. Putting the puzzle pieces together in my mind. Getting really anxious and angry. I had gone through great lengths to always make this person feel comfortable around me. Shutting off parts of myself in the process for their benefit.
No, I wouldn’t and couldn’t go quietly. Not like a ghost in the wind. Not like a spurned breeze. No, they would know all before I left. Know me in complete honor before I strutted out. They would be a nuisance the way I was for them. They would know my bitterness as I had tasted theirs. In this, in parting we would be fair. In this wretched underestimation, there would be the aches of sweet glory. In the end, we would find the equation of the entirety of the relationship. All we were would be measured and acknowledge.
I deserved that much. To be mourned and acknowledge. Even if just for the disheveled thing we were. Was honor too much to ask? Civility? Was it justified? You decide. Was I just being prideful? Perhaps. People have done worse in the sake of pride. I like to think my actions were the obligation of Libra. That in sincerity and genuine care I searched for a fair ending. Maybe for both of us. Or maybe just for myself. Maybe out of impatience with myself. For being the predictable person who always does the right thing. Maybe, just like the stars, I can’t bare to go quietly.