If there isn’t anything to say does it mean I’m listening? My socially awkward tends to like the quiet. Self consciousness my song without words. My heart the violin but a whisper under the organ of my mind. Relentless thoughts drumming past me wake me up. Not as tired as I was has my synapsis falling back into place. Being my own worst dichotomy lends itself to getting in my own way. I haven’t quite figured out how to banish the over thinker in me. So I’ll just keep at the venting and maybe one day it will make me normal.
I chose this life so now I have to live it. It’s the keeping them all straight and staying out of transference that proves to be hard now and again. Some repeat crossovers are so strong. But I’m moving right along. I’ll find the fun in it again. I like not needing anything. And to be honest I like being this tired it opens me.
Feeling moved means we’re moving. Is contentment a place where we arrive? When we are comfortable we are real and when we are real we can be spontanious.
Pleasurable antidotes don’t need labels or titles. We don’t need fireworks or shooting stars to assure us we are living. We need to awaken what lay dormant within us. We need to trust. Our lives are what they are until they are just not that anymore.
When we are being true to our innate desires, that will always be enough and it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t fit into someone else’s portrait. Let them drink their bourbon while life’s bubbly floats over your canvas.
Don’t try to control people. We aren’t all meant to fit perfectly into one puzzle. There just aren’t enough corners.
The journey is our own. Our own sense of accomplishment will be different for everyone. What makes one person happy may not seem at all appealing to the person sitting next to them. Don’t project. Accept. The beauty of life is relativity. There will always be differences of opinion. Conjecture based on half the facts and less story. When people share their version of your story it’s not who you really are. And who cares what people think anyway?
Let your internal sun shine and don’t take any grief. It holds no value in the world of energy exchanging playing cards. And aren’t you here to play? I suggest you play nicely like you were hopefully taught when you were young. Hold hands when you cross the street and all that. You shouldn’t need to be covered in armor. If you are, you are playing with the wrong people. Change games.
If the day allotted I could write it away till the moon hovers and my eyes close. But duty calls as I stand here at the kitchen counter multi-tasking over my coffee. My peace is returning and bringing with it my smile. It’s not that deep. This is my life. Musical notes with droplets of water. One with everything and nothing.
there are serendipitous waterfalls of organic poetry that feed the effervescent lifestyles of the young and the missing. shaded from the sun by thoughts of sexually promiscuous turnabouts that leave your hair wet and your breath heavy. for once upon a dream of kindred spirits shadowed by the inevitable qualities of knowing how to be spontaneous. there was little to be laid down to rest in the after-mass of what was shared between the earth and the sky. shared rainbow masquerades collide in an explosion of orgasmic rapture that can only occur as bodies are transformed into one enigma.
photo http://wallpaperesque.com/image/1583