I sit on my brother's bed, inspiration running its usual course, and find my positive thoughts have failed me. Situations have gotten no better, but i still want to think they will. I still want to say they will. I still want to think with that warmth that others carry so easily. But maybe it isn't my thing, but i still try.
Yea, this is a new layout. I felt it was time for a change, and after a few hours of struggle, I came to this. I titled it "Walk the Walk", as if to say that to know me, you need to experience me. And I try to evoke that experience through writing. On some days, it seems easier than others. I realize my writing has its own turn of ups and downs. but here i go again.
Sometimes I question my own writing. As if to ask why i need this blog. Why i need this public space, this attention that i yearn for. But I know the answer, I always knew the answer. I want someone to listen. To listen to what I have to say, and tell me it will be okay. I need someone to listen to my ups and downs and tell me that it will be okay. I need someone to listen to me complain and tell me it will be okay. To tell me...everything is going to be okay. And yet i feel that missing in my life. I feel that voice gone at the moment, and I see myself losing the people that I once held dear. But you know what...everything will be okay.
I need someone to care for me. To care for what I have to say. To care for what i have to write. To care for my well-being. I seek more than just attention, I seek care. Care. Like that teddy bear I once held. Care like how I care for my brother. Care like how I care for my friends, but they don't know that, we hardly talk anymore, any one of us. And its saddening. But you know what...everything will be okay.
I want someone to know me. Know me for me. Know me and accept me. Know me and love me. Like how my parents do, like how my family does. I need someone to know that I'm not always going to be happy, that I'm not always going to want to talk, that I'm trying hard to be my own person, to be a happy person. I want someone to know when i care for them, and I don't want to lose them, then maybe they won't drift from me. I want someone to know how sensitive i am and how quickly they might hurt me. hurt me. hurt...me...But you know what...everything will be okay.
Everything will be okay, Alex...Trust Me.
To have something and then to have someone take it away. That hurts.
To rise from nothing and become something, but not enough. That hurts.
And to say that's the natural course of life. The up's and down's and all around's, and sometimes, it seems all too confusing and too frustrating and too harsh. But it isn't. It shouldn't be. You sometimes find yourself in the tightest situation, between want and reality. It hurts. You sometimes find yourself in the cruelest situations when whats good for the people, may hurt you on the inside more than anything. Shattered dreams are not shattered hopes. Failure is not the end. It is only from the ashes of the burnt out flame in our hearts can we rebuild ourselves. It is only from these ends that we can find new beginnings. It is only from these ruins that we may construct new structures, new hopes, new ideas, new desires, new ambition.
More than anything, falls show us that we can't always succeed. They show us that we can't always win. They show us that we can't always get what we want. They show us that we are just human. Just human.
Imperfection is not failure, nor is falling down.
Liberation from expectations, and desires may make us independent of drive, but when we experience those natural ups and downs, it may be time to take a break and accept it.
Accept the world as it is. We must all reach that point where we must acknowledge our fall. We must all reach the point where we must accept certain situations, feelings, peoples, and especially the things that go wrong in our life.
There is
nothing wrong
without something
right.
Inspired by Noah Lilien
So it's 1:30 in the morning (at night really), and i sit here writing. It seems odd to do so, considering I'm not really in the position to do so, but i find my writing is more free and fluid at night. Additionally, my thinking tends to be somewhat straighter, when not inverted by the hindrance of distraction and emotion.
Somehow, on this particular night, as i lay on my bed, I feel a bit freer, a bit of relief, of self-confidence slowly leaking its way into my mind. Its a good feeling I have to admit. It's a very easy-going pace that my mind seems to tread at...just slowly making its way from one thought to the next.
Quite frankly, it's hard to obtain, and even harder to explain, especially for me. Someone who seems to have the most pessimistic outlook on life, now experiencing what he believes is a euphoria. And words fail me here. Its not that I do not know how i feel, its that for too long I've focused on everything that i felt was wrong with my life, that this feeling seems odd, and all too unfamiliar.
Words that used to sprinkle my posts, and daunt my mind, no longer fit the criteria, and I'm left to feel a bit...out of place. My writing is hyperbolized, there is no doubt in my mind about that. I can take the simplest situations, emotions, objects and seem to create an endless flow of words to accompany them. Is it a virtue or vice? I feel the way I've used it serves to be a vice. I've used this to portray my anger, my resent, my malicious nature, and in doing so, I created a demeaning image for myself and the things and people that surround me.
And to what extent? Why not write of good aspects? of a wonderful family? of amazing friends? of the luck I've had to be able to live this life? So I continue to lay here, 1:45 now, writing. Just writing whatever comes to mind. And it feels good. To write. Again.
To write of a positive, a good feeling, and a serene mind. It seems surreal, and yet i want it to last forever. This feeling. And to what would I accredit this sudden content...i honestly do not know.
It seems to be the muse to my recent impediment. The inspiration I was waiting to obtain. And it has come to me now. At this hour, and I could not help myself. For writing in itself brings me joy. To write and read what i wrote, in amazement to the fact that i wrote it. It seems unbelievable. And to further flatter myself, I would say that sometimes, I cannot believe what I've written. Sometimes I can't believe the emotion I may provoke, or as a whole, the subject I have written upon.
They're all just feelings. emotions, nothing more than a hormonal imbalance or a psychological occurrence, and yet I may derive words from it. Derive words from nothing and turn it into something. Turn it into whatever i may like. Turn it into something positive or something negative. Its all in my words. And it seems so empowering to know that. It seems so unreal to know that. It seems so impossible to know that.
I write because I love to write. I love to write because...
And now i try and conclude this thing as best as i know how. I try to shut the gates that allowed my mind to flow so smoothly, and once again be unsure of the next time such inspiration comes to me again. Such uncertainty as to when i may find my muse again, as to when i may write again. And yet, I am willing to stop.
Note: Hey thanks for reading, I realize I haven't written in a while, and would like to thank my readers for keeping up with what I have so far. It means a lot to me, as stated in previous posts. Additionally, feel free to comment, I'm open to new ideas and thoughts, whether good or bad, they both help me become a better person, and write better. As for past comments that any of you may have written, please do read them, for i try to answer them (usually the long ones).
It is 2:00 now. and life seems to pass slowly.
good night.
Lies. and Deceit. Is it so wrong to lie, to be selfless. is it so wrong as to lie to allow another to be comfortable? and yet you feel you wronged of all people, yourself. You lied for another and in-turn hurt yourself. but its not too bad, as long as you care enough for the reason you lie.
Is it truly lying, if your reasons are justified? If you seek nothing more than to help someone else? I believe it is not so. but it hurts you nonetheless. to not be able to answer what your mind is screaming. instead you say the opposite, because you know this world's not about you, because you know you have to be selfless sometime, because you know that that person would do the same for you.
But is that enough to balance it out? to stop the hurt? to stop the yelling?
no.
you're still imbalanced.
you still hurt.
you still yell.
and to think its okay. everything's okay.
everything will be okay.
Because in the end, its all good.
All good.
just
good.