02 November 2009

getting lost, picking up the pieces

Writing, I guess, has always been a part of my life. Journals have always been something I have kept, in one form or another, but somehow all sense of this was lost in the past year. So has my sense of person. Words have been lost, and opportunities to expel them from my being are now seem like sorry causes-- however, I wish to regain them, reclaim them, engulf them...
My good intentions seem to constantly get lost in the city's sounds and cold people. Dreams seem... now clouded instead of vibrant and at hand. Perhaps that is why I have been at a loss for words for so long. The soul quite literally must rip the desire, the passion, out of the body-- for it appears that with age and time, new perspectives are abound. As our age changes, progresses upwards and forwards, a newly rendered mind emerges. An adult mind, a skeptical mind. A mind on the defense, which quite skillfully and subconsciously defends the person from physical and most importantly emotional pain. A mind that rejects, refuses, and is quite stubborn; sometimes more so than a child. A mind that meets nearly everything with fear and trepidation, which combined makes resistance. As time ticks onwards, so do our priorities. For the longer we wait, new opportunities emerge. Opportunities that we must take, opportunities that better ourselves and our lives. Opportunities that may be wonderful, however, not necessarily passions.
The heart and ones passions suddenly seem secondary.

In the past year I have watched the people I love not follow their hearts but rather act and make decisions based solely on survival. I still have dreams, and I still have ideals. To give oneself the allowance to dream, the allowance to chase a dream suddenly seems to mean that we must defy the laws of physics. This means we must fight a battle. A long, hard battle to defy the odds and rebel from comfort.

A well trusted true blue friend told me last night over chicken dumplings and corn soup that the price of success in many instances is loneliness. Four months ago an acquaintance bid me farewell with the simple phrase "I hope you find what you are looking for." It was quite clear to me that the statement resonated within his person as well. Searching constantly, I am, and in fear. But who isn't? It's my opening of doors and not letting people in that is the problem.

Let's dive through this MF.

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