I wish I could write. But every time I try to put ink to paper, I get this wall in front of me that nothing can break. So I climb, I climb and climb. Vigorously searching for a top, but just when I see it in sight, it’s all over. A quick gust of wind, and I’m back on the ground again. Staring up at this pinnacle of excitement. Climbing this wall is the most fun I’ve had in weeks… or should I say, the most entertaining. I look back, and it makes me think, maybe that’s why. The actual wall itself is not amusing. And the action of climbing it isn’t all that alluring either. In fact, it’s a huge pain. But still, it preoccupies my mind so I don’t have to be thinking about things that I’s rather not. So I climb and climb, hoping one day I’ll make it over the wall. Sometimes, I just sit at the bottom, put in some headphones to drown out the noise. And sit. Nothing in particular. No thoughts, no prayers. No friends, no places to be or things to go to. I have a habit of being a hermit. I haven’t come to the conclusion yet if it’s because I don’t like how much people aggravate me, or how much I love some of them nonetheless. But either way, I sit, and wait. Waiting of something entertaining to come along. A while ago some guys came and grabbed me and locked me up for a couple days. “Pending an investigation” is what they said. I was hoping that the lock-up would be entertaining. But it wasn’t. The entire time I longed for that wall, and the table and chair that sits beneath it. What I call home. The confines of my own mind. The only place I can be me without disappointing someone, or being told what I need to be. In the world as it is today, everyone always has places to go, and faces to be when they get there. Interchanging them along the path, hoping no one will cross them. A new face, a new place. That show they see it. So when I keep the same face, I’m looked down upon, and discouraged. I told my dad once that I don’t care what people think of me. And I meant it. I still feel that way today. Deep down somewhere behind that wall, I’m sure I care about what a few people say about me. But in general? I couldn’t care less. He told me that was wrong… In my mind, that means he feels I need to appeal to people as a whole. But I refuse to become a lemming just for a reason like that. I try my best to appeal to those I love, and even more to those who love me. That is, of course, if I feel anything for them in return. If I don’t, even though I feel I should, I do not have any drive to do so. So I sit at that wall. Waiting for the time when I grow wings I guess. Waiting for… Something?
Category: Life
The transverse designs of my uncoiled mind seem to flow transiently threw the abyss. Not knowing which void to fill, or how to even scratch the surface. The direction of “up” seems like a folk tale as though it even had an author from the olden days. The sketch seems endless. Motionless.
The transcending theme of my untwisting mind seems to yield again. Throwing its clockwork out the bay window and assuming it can spawn new life on its own. Creating this unparalleled dimension to live in. Being at peace there, but putting a face on its original pedestal so those who venture near it will neither know if its absence, nor its guilt. There is however some who venture towards it, and look through the eyeholes of the mask and see its true soul hiding behind. But most just take a glance and remind themselves “not to get too close.” The true persona of what is behind the mask gives others a different thought at their meeting though. Not the thought of fear, but one of complete acceptance. The feeling that you’ve known someone your entire life and there are no gaps to fill? To have such a thing on first contact is truly remarkable. So it will wait, for that one who will have that total acceptance, to come and peek through those gateways and pull it thru. Slowly. Calming. Comforting along the way…
You know that feeling you get, like you’ve left something running after you left home? Or the feeling that you’ve forgotten something that you need..? Well thats how I feel right now. I don’t know what is sparking these feelings, but that’s how it is. The undying need to just go out the door and run after someone. As if there’s someone about to leave, and there’s something I CAN do to stop them. But I can’t fulfill that wish.. So I sit here. Watch a movie, put headphones in, write. Not really expecting the feeling to go away. It’s a void that I can’t fill, and god has yet to show me the path to take to fill it. That or i’m already on it and he’s just not telling me. Either way, I don’t like this. It’s a feeling of guilt. I know that this feeling I have is because of something i’ve done. And I also know that there’s nothing I can do to make up for it. But forgetting it and moving on is what i can’t seem to grasp…
Thrown out of house and home, due to poles that come in pairs, and show the possibility of no return, I decided to ask for some help. The people who enjoy calling themselves my “friends” were of little help, and the ones who feel I should rely on them in a time of need seemed to ignore me: my questions and thoughts were literally repelled and avoided. So feeling at a loss I decided to search in the largest pool of resources that was known to me, the web. Finally I got a hit, from one very unexpected individual and her son. I was asked to come live with them for two weeks until I stored up enough money to take a place of my own under my belt. Gracious and thankful I accepted… Now due to lack of transportation of a motor type, it’s going to be a very straining two weeks, but god has granted me the opportunity. And if the only cost of it is to bike 20 miles a day, I cannot ask for more. A blessing in a shaded place, the light shown itself and all I have to do is enter it, and soak up the greatness of whats been presented to me. So I thank my shelter providers, and I thank God for having created such amazing people.
