And … It’s February

Here’s to reading my writer description and noting it’s from this time last year. Really it is quite an accomplishment, seeing where I’ve come from.

Self growth can be quite extraordinary and terribly revealing.

At least, for the moment, I’m seeing progress. I see steps forward. There is backward reflection, as there always must be, but every step is in the forward direction. Arrows pointing towards the unknown and expectation.

It’s scary realizing you have an appetite.

I may be only realizing now that it’s February of 2013 but I’ve come so far and the months have felt like years. The confusion is understandable and pleasurable.

Here’s to enjoying the future, reflecting the past, and continuously finding our Blogs to be time capsule images of a moment. Because as moments go…I’d rather continue to actively live them then to always stop and write about them.

 

Blips

I’m running as far away as I can from anywhere. All directions. Seeing all points falling into the distance, I still run. There’s too much in the air that’s left. Too much resonating. I feel the vibrations in my skin. I know I’m still too close. Still to near what it was I was running from. I can’t stop. I must continue to move forward. Forgetting careful steps. Forgetting paths. Forgetting direction. Just away.

****

I like to hide.

Finding a safe place that’s just my own. I can be myself here. The vulnerable self.

Like a Turtle, I have to gather strength for the day. The morning ritual. Alarm. Let dog out. Take shower. Coffee. Breakfast. Day.

Counting down till the moments when the day is real again. Inside my cave the time doesn’t matter. It’s “real life” that takes the hours.

****

Forceful vulnerability is one of the most cruel and unusual punishments.

SuperHero

Since I could dream they were filled with the desire to be remembered. Filled with a possibility of somehow being greater.

The events that follow prove to be somewhat limiting. However, being that I’m only 24 going on 25, I can see now I have time.

Previously feeling constrained by the counting seconds, I now feel something greater, time. Time for what it is.

I am in training for the attainabilty of what I know is to come. Forcibly so.

What is life but missed opportunity? I never want to feel the sting of regret. Truer then most failings, regret is so long-lasting. In memoirs we leave them to continue forward. Forward carried in the eyes and ears of our descendants.

One day, long from now, I want the wind to whisper my name. But more so, even if I was just “that one girl,” I’d be fine. For it’s what was done and the acts that are remembered that are of significance.

Being recollected is only the small of it.

Let my war cry ring from the mountains as I am now wanting my life to be mine, shared.

We are communal and in that I want us all to have these same desires.

I do have a dream and I hope I never awaken. For sometimes the dreams are greater.

Simply Put

I like to always remember the things about ourselves others can’t take away. Late night style thinking. Completed a chapter in a book, thinking. There is beauty within us untouchable by others, even from ourselves. Maybe there are moments when it hides, from everyone. Hides to stay in tact. Hides to stay safe and not be altered.

This beauty so true has stayed the same from infancy all the way up till now and beyond. Infancy. This light about us, soul-like, though more visually tangible to us, on the earthly plane.

When it’s dark out, raining, and the walls are being raised around me, I look here. I look here and find who I really am. The darkness can hide these good, beautiful, natural things about ourselves but they are never gone. It is here, within remembering, believing and enjoying these beauties that the life of light itself sparks back. Sparks back and quiets the darkness. Then our eyes adjust and we move forward into the new plane of existence and realization that is life and the beauty that is us.

This beauty is what makes me want to believe we are all naturally good. Along the way there are those walls, those life circumstances that make us stumble. Lose sight. But it is always there, none the less, waiting for it to be reignited. Awakened.

I call it beauty because really there are no words.

Just Words

My heart keeps beating and my lungs keep filling with air.

Everyday I’m stronger. Every thought more clear.

These are the days I will remember forever. Not the painful ones but the ones leading up to my moments of greatness.

Realizing my full potential. Rising above the tall trees of my own failures, shortcomings and fears. Towering above them I will be taller.

Not a mountain or a skyscraper.

Taller.

Looking down.

Being proud.

Replaying my life through quick pictures, a montage. An ode to it all. The hard times being almost like head liners, being the tools shaping me.

Molding.

Here I am perfect now.

Heart beating, lungs full with oxygen. I realize that my life is the best version of it that there could have been.

As my lungs say they’re full, I am as well.

Full.