What are you doing with your life?

What are you doing with your life?

What. Are. You. Doing. With. Your. Life.

I don't mean it in the way we usually answer that question, I'm not asking where you study, work or party. I'm asking you in the literal but reflective sense.

If the immediate to reaction that question is where we work, study or play, if we allow ourselves to take the profound miracle of our lives, and place it into that one simple dimension. Then I believe that we really have something to worry about.

What are you doing with your life?

Could be a question placed into present and future context. I want you to think about them in both. Currently, yes you may be studying - but is that really all you are? And all you have to offer, yourself and others? We have no idea what we could do in the future, but somehow, with crayons and coloring books went our ability to dream. Will you change the world with your life, or will you be just another Sally? What are you going to do with the miracle you've received, with the light in you and with the oxygen in your lungs. Will you be selfish and live only for yourself, or will you change the lives of others by infecting them with your passion? Will you wait for a leader to follow, or will you take the risk of getting up and taking the first step?

We have no way of telling what might happen, today or tomorrow. We know what we've accomplished in the past, we should learn from it, but not dwell on it - rather look forward into what we could be, where we could go, and the wonders we could do.

Now, what are you doing with your life?

Think before you talk

How aware are you of your thoughts? How often do you truly allow yourself to take a moment for true inspection and reflection of your own inner dimensions? The many parts that make you up, the feelings you feel and the urges that drive you to act as you do?

We would never be able to fully understand ourselves, as most of who we are is purely subconscious. But then, if most of us is subconscious, how could we truly believe that we truly have any control over ourselves? If you don't know or understand the deepest part of yourself, the part that makes you feel as you do, or act as you do. 

I oft find myself thinking how I could truly be one person, physically obviously - but mentally? If I'm so often two minded about things. Who is that other voice inside my head that goes against, or disagrees with certain things I do or say? My conscience, that's what religion says, that the voice you hear inside your head is your conscience. But are we our conscience, or is it a entirely separate entity from ourselves? Since we have no control over it? Or rather another aspect of ourselves. I think the human mind is pretty profound if we are able to have two views of the same thing, but some would probably call that nuts. 

For a long time, and even now, I find myself constantly fighting with myself, because inwardly I feel like I'm a bitch. But I'm constantly fighting with that part of myself, the part that is willing to crush hopes and dreams, and tell people things they don't really need to hear, but just because it comes to mind. Things that hurt. I don't, well sometimes I do, but I try not to? Blurt out everything that comes to my mind. Because I want to be better. 

I don't want to believe that everyone has the root of evil; that that's what humanity is, we're just tainted by society, by our ancestors, by the need to be defensive and rude. Do put up walls, instead of opening doors? To be ruthless instead of vulnerable? Why is being a good person something that's an effort, not something that is natural and effortless?

I'm asking a lot of questions because I'm thinking, you know? Battling with myself, my ideologies, what I want to be, and what I am seen as. 

I just want to think before I talk. 

To Whom It May Concern

To whom it may concern,

A Human Rights violation, should never be one that is ever based on a level of importance. When a Human Right is violated, what that person holds dear to them, all they are offered in this world, their peace of mind, is literally and utterly devastated. They are left feeling ultimately desolate, and out of place, as if the very world they are living in has turned against them.

When my human rights were so blatantly disregarded, and I too found myself helpless to the powers that be, I found myself searching for a system that could speak for me when I had no voice, one that fought for me when I had no ability to. I respect and admire the quick action that took place, when the matter was at hand, but when all was said and done, it is two years later.

I can only implore, that you who are reading this, treat each case that comes across your desk not as a file or phone call, but rather as your own child, or your own mission. That you would give the respect, and attention to every single case as you would expect from those who might happen to work on your own one day. To be merciful and kind, because it is only you who can make the change in the lives of many.

On that note, I am a grown woman now, and have found resolution in myself, I have learned from my situation and have grown. I, however, cannot say the same for the school that left me without dignity. I cannot say that those involved; the educators and mentors, meant to strengthen and mold me, but who grossly misused their power, have found either resolution or growth from my situation.

I don't intend to further my case, as two years have already passed. I can only pray that the Human Rights and lives of those I have left behind under the guidance and supervision of those same educators, may have the same support and love that I did from my family, because I shudder to think of what may happen to those who do not.

You may now close my file.

Regards,
Lynn Seale

him

The hardest time for me to write I realized, is when I'm emotional. The words sit in my chest, and they choke me. I feel the letters of all the words; of memories and feelings, lifting up slowly and choking me. Holding me there in a tight vise grip.

I don't want to speak about him, but it's all that's on my mind right now. He was my rock, and he guided me. I never belonged to her much, but him, he was everything to me. And I love him so much. But he, like her, teaches lessons by squeezing wallets. I don't even know why I'm saying that, because it's not about that. 

Have you ever felt like people were only there for you, and in your life because you're messed up, because you're dark and twisty and bitter and burdened and that makes them feel less bad about themselves? Have you every felt like they're there only when you're broken, because when you're in the process of mending, they feel as if you don't need them anymore. That's what I feel about him right now, that when I was a basket case, I was everything, I was a ticking time bomb and a princess wrapped into one. Now, now because I'm happy, there's nothing anymore. 

Why is it that it's only when people are already broken that we look up, that we help them up and that we're there? 

Why is it that we don't think those who are okay need us, don't need love and kindness?

Why don't we keep people from breaking instead of only getting kicks out of fixing them?

No, I can't say I'll ever stop loving him. And I remember thinking "God why are you making me feel this way?" But I said that He should have his way in my life. And if that's showing me what my relationship with you is truly like, then even though it hurts like hell, there is a reason for it. Maybe I knew all along, and I'm only realizing it. 

Just love everyone, be compassionate and kind, merciful and generous to everyone. Not just those who have blades against their wrists or a madness in their eyes.  

I wish my smile was enough

I think I know what heartbreak is now. I've gone through it before, I thought each and every broken door in my life was heartbreak. But it's not like this. It's not like what you're doing to me.

You were my rock, before God, before I knew majesty, I knew you. You held me, and you took me where I needed to be, psychiatrists, psychologists, the works. You said you'd be there no matter what I needed.

It's a little messed up that I'm thinking that the only way I could get you to look at me again was if I broke myself, used a long rope to choke myself. That you paid attention to me when I was broken, but when I'm hole I don't exist.

I lie here and I feel the tiny pieces of thread that hold together my heart falling away, I'm breaking again, you're breaking my heart but I won't let you see. Because I won't let you smother with me, with your affections that only come when I'm broken down.

I have never felt this way about you before, it was us against the world. Like you'd always be on my side, but my smile isn't enough for you, me being happy, is not enough to get a reaction from you.

My heart knows that I shouldn't have those, in my life who only appreciated me broken.
But how do I run from you?
How do I block you out?
You're everywhere,
In me, you helped heal me.

I wish you could be here when I'm happy, instead of listening more intently, and caring only when I had scars. I wish my smile was enough for you, to run through you, and course through your veins, and lighten you.

I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry.
Because I'm not going back.

Why not love?

Love lingers on inside you, whether you have felt it ripped from your heart, or your smile. It waits patiently for the moment that you will accept its presence in your heart, because it is there, pushing your blood from your fingertips to your heart, to your brain. It is there.

Don't be afraid of this love, the love that lingers, it will bring you learning experiences, you will be thrown off cliffs and mountains, sometimes falling into oceans of warm water and sometimes into boiling hot lava. Your skin will melt, or you will be cleansed, you'll never know unless you allow yourself to see. 

Love is merciful and it is graceful, it brings kindness and it brings a sense of compassionate, but it has no definition. Love is un boundless, and is everywhere, and is everything. We feel and we love, we see and we love, we breathe and we love. Don't try and interpret your love, to figure it out, your mind can't undertake that. Embrace it. 

We think we know love, but are scared to show love. When we walk in the streets, we should greet those looking unhappy, and smile at those who are sullen. We must be open to people around us, be open to rejection, and be open to the idea that we can change the world. 

I believe in love. That's why I believe in Christ. He has shown me love when no one else could, and through His love, He is teaching me mercy and grace. I believe that if we loved more, hugged those who are feeling trampled, held the hands of the lonely and told the hated that they are loved, that slowly the world could change. 

In the darkest of nights, and brightest of days. In the rain, snow or sunshine. When we are laughing so much our stomach hurts or when we are crying till our throats burn, love remains. We are love, it flows through us, enriches us, re arranges us, and makes us different. We can love, so why not love?

Experience

I have only recently realized that there is light in this world, that my world need not be plagued by a darkness so black it holds my soul in it's clutches squeezing out every sense of grace and kindness. That this light, holds me and gives me a sense of purpose and kindness now, that when I am faced with opportunity to be disdainful, un appreciative and unkind, I now rather turn to God, and He allows and wills me to be better.

With the acceptance of light, I am also confronted by the black. One can't accept one of them and not the other. So I am aware of the devil now, creeping into my thoughts and limbs, and willing me to do things that will distract me from the path I want to fulfill.

It is so much easier to give into things of the night, to give into worldly pleasures that give you moments of bliss and highs, but at the end of the day leave you feeling no better, and if anything, worse about yourself. I've experienced these worldly pleasures, the dark desires of what once was my brooding soul, I've experienced these things. When I say things of the night, I am speaking about everything that comes to your mind when I say it, we all find different things pleasurable after all. I have experienced these things, the over use of drugs, and booze, and women's mouths, things that left me vacant and unhinged. I have experienced them, and I have been made whole again and have no intention of turning back to them. But I have no regrets, they have taught me.

I feel guilty now when I crave a high or a drunken state, but I know now that I crave it not for the idea of running away from my tormented soul. But rather just to let go, and enjoy the small things in life. We so easily make things that should be small, our lives. I believe that we are allowed to find pleasure on this earth if we are not abusing it, and holding it above God, we must be thankful and appreciative for what He allows.

The devil exists, evils exist, even in the hearts of those who don't believe in satan, or are followers to him, it even exists in the hearts of those of us following Jesus, and being cleansed in His love. Evil shows in the moments that you are feeling truly horrible, when you want to spew your own venom onto others, to spread your uneasiness, when you are hurting others or hurting yourself. Evil encourages pleasure at the harm of others AND yourself.

There is pleasure in Evil. But there is majesty and love in God. It is up to you to prefer which you want, both of them are waiting for you to take the first step.

Friendship

I haven't slept in a while. My two friends are currently star fished on my bed, both in the dreamiest state of rest. And I'm sitting next to them, buzzed on painkillers to tackle the hangover, remnants of last nights drunkard ness and a opened bottle of Chardonnay in the early hours of the morning, just to end the night right. In the last few hours, as I sat up smoking our last cigarettes and speaking to my best friend, a lot has dawned on me about life. He has the ability to do that, to bring a sense of reason to my mind, and sometimes it's good for me because I see only my own reason, and even though his is similar to mine, he allows me to open doors in my life that I only dared staring at, instead of turning the handle.

The only one I'm willing to fully divulge in, is the topic of Her. I'm a bit obsessive compulsive, I prefer it if everything in my life remains in control and organized, that I am aware of the going ons around me, and that if something were to happen, I'd see it immediately because it were out of place. Man, then she came into my life. I didn't know uncontrolled and certain until I met this woman, and it has dawned upon me how scary it is that she evokes this irresponsibility and for lack of a better word, urge in me to be out of control. Because it seems as if that even if my world were out of control, she'd hold it in place with her orange painted nails and smile; her dimples creating an oh-so-cute effect and making me relax even if things were falling apart. And I wouldn't mind. Because her eyes would defy the gravity holding me down on to this earth, her irises grounding me and her smile putting everything else that may have perturbed me into perspective. I said that to him, my best friend, as I lay on my bed so cool and collected as we both stared at the ceiling, my heart racing at the very idea of her.
Do you know what he said to me? He said sometimes even if you have all your ducks in a neat little row, what we need and all we want, is someone to come and trash that perfect up, to turn things upside down so that we can actually realize that we don't want it to be perfect, we just need normality. And I knew that's what I'd wanted all along, someone willing to swipe their hand across the queue cards of my life and leave me in a state of disarray and utter panic. Because only in that state of pure bafflement would I truly find out who I am. Only in a state where things seem undone and my seams are unraveling, would I find the person with the needle willing to do it all back up again, just for the simple fact that they wanted me to know that they could do that for me. And I'd found her staring at me with that cute smile, needle in hand and hand on my back, ready to sew me back up again.

Dain (my best friend) said that what he thought of sin, was that every time you're sinning, you're turning things upside down because you're not perfectly in a order. Because you are not perfect. And this is where we both got dramatic and we finished each others sentences, both lying there staring at the ceiling, our hands behind our heads.

Him: That's why God created sin because without sin
Me: We wouldn't have to repent
Him: And without repentance there would have been no reason that He died
Me: Saving us from all our sin

So we are given grace by God the day He set Adam and Eve apart from the rest of the animals, the day they ate the fruit from the forbidden tree and placed knowledge upon us. It was all in His plan, He placed that temptation knowing that mankind would betray Him, and knowing that He would be able to show his mercy and kindness and forgive us.

Dain placed so much into my heart in the early hours of this morning while everyone else slept. He spoke. And I just lied there listening. To every single beautiful word of sense and reason he spoke; about how we place so much emphasis on getting high, and all we remember are the empty things we trip on, the random things that fascinate us, that actually have no meaning to us. How we chase those ideas of fascination, just for a sense of purpose and maybe a hint of happiness.

How depression wasn't just about being sad, it was about being sad because you had something worth fighting for, that when you were in that state of utter darkness it was because you were coming to realization about the world around you, that people weren't there anymore and that the world had grown cold even in the sweltering heat, that when you were there it was because you knew that there was something worth being there for, that those who commit acts of suicide weren't depressed, but rather reached a stage where they felt nothing anymore; because only with the idea of nothingness could you take your life, because you believed there was nothing more to struggle for.

I've been depressed, I've been hurt, I'd been getting high and he placed his hurt, his highs and his sadness all in a light that allowed me to see my own life more clearly.

I ask now, that you, who is reading this only takes those into your life who are worth the fight, who add value and inspire things in you just as my best friend does in me. That you take a moment to add people in your life who give you these things. Friendships that leave you questioning life instead of doubting it, that cause unraveling of reason and doubt, and leave you flabbergasted by the pure magnitude of another's words.

Dain is an entity of magic, beauty and spirituality, he is so profound and so unaware of his ability to leave his lingering words ringing in my ears. And I truly thank God for bringing him into my life and adding meaning.

Can you say that about your friends?

Dain Sisam

Let me tell you something,
You, you who sit there
In that dark corner
Your head hung low with your passages
Of endless tragedies
Your music strung on your brow
I see you
I see the magic that you yield
The visions you proceed to give
I love you.

You inspire me
In words,
words that are hard to describe,
I lie back in awe,
Till just the break of dawn
And I listen to the lyrical confusion
The abrasions,
Rationality,
Finality,
In your endless theories of what life
Could be.
I love you.

You don't know,
Because half the time I don't tell you,
But you,
You ignite a light so bright
In the dark crevices of my dark tormented
Light,
You're a fascination,
Bring me to mental reconciliation
As you magnify,
And pacify
The demons within me.
I love you.

My words here are definite,
And will come to an end.
But the provoking of my emotions
Something I have no way of controlling
Lies deep within the words you say.
And as you lay next to me,
Heart on your sleeve,
Breathing the air I breathe
I believe
That this infinitely finite
And long lasting night
Will somehow be the rest of my life.
I love you.

I'm not going to go a day without you,
Because some part of my life
Is about you,
You're the apple of my eye
The lustrous
Dragonfly that sits
Sits and renders me speechless,
Your beauty captivates
And resonates
An epiphany,
You're the beauty of life,
In plain sight,
A force to be reckoned with,
a heart so broken and stiff,
But love,
In all its broken down and monstrous anguish.
I love you.

Don't ever forget that,
The words I never could say out loud,
But I thank God everyday,
That I know you're here.
You are majesty,
Unjust and beautiful profanity,
Tranquillity,
My peace of mind.
I will watch over you,
And look out for you,
Till the day that I die,
Because I'm gonna try,
To make you see,
The true beauty in everything I see,
In the wonder of you that captivates me.
You're a miracle,
And I love you.

Call me maybe?

You see, my network's down, so I can't tweet or text, and am forced to confront myself. Which I don't mind that much, because maybe I should take time away from the hubbub of social comforts. Because basically that's what our social media is to us these days, a comfort - makes us feel less alone, like maybe we're not the only ones feeling the pain that we do. Or the happiness we do.

Economists say that Social Media is a bubble that will eventually pop and won't be so life consuming, but I find myself disagreeing. I feel like we will always want/appreciate the comforts of our virtual friends and followers, because late at night when your real ones aren't around, you still have people who are there. And as humans we'll always crave it. It kind of makes me wonder what Economists then think the next bubble will be.

My brother has this theory that our phones are in fact, not just a piece of technology, but become a piece, a very personal piece, of who we are. And I think I agree with him. I mean when last did you go a day without your phone, WAIT don't answer that because it's crap question that doesn't substantiate the point I'm trying to make.

Wait - something just got into my eye.

Okay, I'm back, the eyes red as blood. And it's pretty crazy how my immediate reaction was to squirt as much eye-gene into it as I could and then put my spectacles on, which I'm now wearing in the dark. How absolutely pointless.

About your phone, it's an extension of your arm - your connection to anyone and everyone around the world. You can get information, check your back account, check your email and message your friend in Australia at the same time. Yes, the world has shrunken, but it's sort of beautiful how close it has brought us all.

My phone holds so much of me and what I do, and I know that some people will be like "You shouldn't speak that way about material things" but really? Are you serious? Be real with yourself, you're probably thinking that as you stare at your phone screen and read this very post. I haven't ever written a post via my pc, I do everything on my phone and to me that's pretty amazing.

I feel really disconnected without mine, and at one stage when I didn't have a phone it was sort of liberating, but pretty crap. I mean, I like being able to lie in my bed and speak to whomever I need to, I can have a conversation with someone about something I had thought of in the very moment that I did, and it doesn't matter where they are.

Also, just think about how uncomfortable you get when someone's looking through your phone, even if you have nothing to hide. It's like their sifting through the very pages and contents of your soul, because everything you look at, write to people and speak about is on your phone. It is such a personal piece of metal.

I actually use to go around, copying the music off different people's phones so that I could have an in depth look into who they were, because the lyrics you listen to, and the beats you like, basically gives me a feel of your soul. Because when you're listening to music, you're allowing it to run like a stream around your soul, and mold it as the stream would a rock.

I think that as long as we don't make things gods in our life then we're a for a way. Appreciate the things that simplify your life and allow you to express yourself, the small things, like your phone; your connection to the entire world.

"I love you"

"Do you love me?"
She was silent.
"Do you love me?" I asked again, hearing and beginning to fear that my voice was giving away the acceleration of my heart as it thundered towards her silent wall that I knew would crack it.
"Answer me." I said staring at her.
"You know I do."
But in that moment as she said it, I saw the lies slip from her eyes, and a thousand years of automated responses come together in a moment of an ultimately blinding clash.

How many times do you return the words "I love you" with what you think is the polite response. Some try and camouflage it, and ommit words, you know the
"and me, you"
"I do too"
"and you."
Type of responses. You see, nothing is quite the same as the response of "I love you" when you say it to someone, even the "too" to me sometimes sounds oddly rehearsed, as if it was repeated over and over again to convince the speaker of their love. I believe to some extent that when we say it, we shouldn't just be saying it, but feeling the words etched into our very souls as they come from our mouths.

The words "I love you" are used so lightly these days, we say it to almost everyone. Teenage fans saying it to their favorite artists all the time, people dating say it only to hope that by saying it, it would then formulate love, guys say it to get into girls pants, and girls say it so they can go and tell their girlfriends that they're so in love. But what about knowing it, and meaning it?

There are many things I take seriously, and many things I absolutely do not because I feel like we have all these little things we do, and say, in order to keep us going, or to keep the faith. I do, however, take words such as "I promise" and "I love you" seriously. And would you believe that I have never said "I promise" without intending to never break it, and "I love you" unless I really meant it. But I take it that seriously because when someone says those words to me, I believe with my heart that they say it the same way I do, with that same certainty, and without a hint of a lie.

I believe that love is something rational. That right before you say the words, you make a decision that changes "like" to "love", that in fact it is not something that is pressed upon you, but something you've chosen to accept. I've said I love you to few people in my life, and every time I did/do I truly believed that I meant it, but as I lie here now - knowing His love - I must stop and wonder if I did ever truly mean it. I based love on the willingness to jump in front of a bus for someone, but never took into the consideration that I was depressed and wanted to jump in front of a bus anyway. When I said I love you, I based it on how the person made my heart beat faster, which I could have gotten from caffeine or how we'd been together for so long, that I must love them by now. But as I lie here, knowing the names of those I said it to, I'm perfectly okay with never speaking to them. Perfectly okay with never thinking about them, and perfectly okay with the fact that maybe I didn't in fact love them as much as I thought I did, or at all.

I know in my heart that I have loved, and I somewhat feel that my nature, even though I'm not from a very emotional family, is that I am a creature of love. I feel love for people intensely, and very quickly, that I feel blinding over protectiveness and a need to shelter and take care of so many in my life, but to a certain extent it scares me because I don't know if it really is actually love.

We think that we know what love is, but I feel like we have no idea at all, that our emotions have been so confined and boxed by a society that tells us what emotion looks like that we think we have it figured out. But really, when we say "I love you" maybe we have no idea at all.

The Hill

I sit on the top of the hill, my hands are bruised and my nails are torn from the climb, my feet have blisters and my throat is dry. On my arms, thighs and sides are knife wounds I'd given myself, just as a reminder that I was alive. They'll ask me if it was worth it, I know. But as I sit here, holding my knees under my chin, and staring out far below towards the din, I believe I am safe.

You see where I came from, there were wars and struggles, but the violence and hate was all in my mind. I saw bombs explode and fragmented body parts land all around my irises, and I almost smelled them, I almost smelled the stench of the dead curl up and comfort me, as I sat there knowing about the hill but so afraid to climb.

There was love too, but it was the ripping kind, that tore at my soul, and left me feeling boundless, uncontrolled. I gave pieces of myself listlessly, watching as others carelessly used peices of my soul trying to fix their own. Once I touched her face, and my hand fell through air, because she never was really there.

I lied there some nights, at bottom of the hill, pretending I was just the road, and let thousands of feet trample on the very essence of my being. Their feet digging into my skin, into my hair, kicking at me, and breaking bits of me. I use to stare up at the stars, and pretend I was somewhere right above there.

At the bottom of the hill, there was everything I could have wanted, but nothing I really needed. I got high, and smiled too much and drank so much I couldn't feel my own face, but the next morning I woke up, and my hands were all bruised up, because I'd been fighting with my demons again.

You see, as I sit on top of the hill now, I watch all those that were with me go by, and I want to pull them up but no one reaches their hand for a lift. Because people like the bottom of the hill, it's safer down there. There where there is no way to fail or to fall, there were life is sleazy and out of control.

And as I sit here, my insides are getting warm and my wounds begin healing slowly, I turn my face to the sky and I smile, because as I reach my hand out, I touch the sun. And I'm lifted away from it all.

Please sign your name on the dotted line

Please print your name on the dotted line.

Which name?
The one you've given me.
Or the one I feel in my soul.
The name that escapes my lips when I'm touched,
or the one I yell out when I'm scared.
The name I want to be known as,
or the name the fans are screaming.
The names of my ancestors,
or the names of my children.
The names of the people I've walked passed on the way to school,
or the name of the man who raped that little girl.
The names of the ones I've watch dance,
or the ones that I've lost.
The names of the brothers,
mothers,
sisters and sons who have fought for my freedom
but whose legacy has been tainted by an the importance of economy.
The name of the kid who died because didn't have enough to eat,
or the name of the old man who sold me a spliff.
The names of soldiers who have died,
or the names of their mothers who cried.
The names of the presidents,
or the names of the freedom fighters.
The names of those who ridiculed me,
or the teachers whose eyes condescended upon me.
The name of that guy who killed himself,
or of the girl who cut herself.
The name of the angel who saved me,
or of the demon who kept inviting me.

Because I am all of these names,
each one has been imprinted in me,
both breaking and taking,
but replacing bits of me.
These are the names I carry with me,
that I feel all around me.
Smothering me.

So which is it then?

You

Your beauty is undefinable to me, the art of your make up and creation an indecipherable unexplainable but magical clause in your existence. But for the sake of you, let me explain it to you.

Your thoughts are vipers and angels; they're contrasts of everything you fear and love, but they move together gracefully as you watch yourself rip away your matter, but enhance your substance.

You speak, and it is as if a million notes had been strung together creating a symphony of sweet words; a guitar strumming the perfect chords to create an ambiance of peace in a bar late at night when I'm cold and lonely.

When you walk, it's as if mountains have moved, trees have uprooted and the very ground you walk on has been placed before you, just to admit your wake.

And when you smile, it is as if a thousand sunsets have set in order to contrast the beauty of that moment. The infinity of your smile reaching over and caressing my own mouth into a smile.

I feel closer to you in the light, because that's when I can truly see all that is you, and where I truly fell for you. Your face making the light seem brighter, and your heart sparkling like stars in the day sky.

When we're in the dark it is as if our very bodies have been made to mold into one another and create a work of art so delicate and intricate, that our limbs fall away as our souls intertwine.

I see a beauty in your soul, that inspires and somewhat reaches out for my own. My soul has never understood light quite as it does when it is next to yours.

The idea of darkness, and dank dull ideas, fall away at the very essence of you. You stand there with your cute smile, and you resonate choirs singing and the hummingbird in my heart matches the music.

Don't be afraid of your beauty, when you stare into the mirror and you see all that is unexplainable and undeniable. When you see the intricate artwork that is the make up of your very existence, don't shy away from it.

You are only you, and it is only you that can take ones breath away.

I am an Addict

I am an Addict.

My addiction was never like the type that's spoken about on the news, I never stole things and I was a much better person high than sober, but that's what my problem was. I needed something to make me high enough to be a good person.

You see, addiction is this horrid thing that so much of us are suffering from but so few are willing to admit to. I use to like to tell myself it wasn't an addiction because I never harmed anyone, and it never bothered anyone else. It isn't just the drugs or the booze, addiction could be anything worldly that your heart is so set upon doing, that nothing else matters. And that's a sin. My addiction had become so much more than needing to smoke every hour or so, it had become a lifestyle. I got to the point where my high was my normal, and my sober was uncomfortable and I was tripping. Because my mind, body and soul were out of co ordination.You see, I love marijuana, but I'd made it a demi-god in my life, and that's why it was wrong for me.

When I was high, man, I remember I felt like I was in touch with myself; but that was only because I liked being out of touch so much. The world moved around me slow, and everything was exaggerated, it was as if my world finally matched my insides. I am so sensitive to those around me, if you tell me your pain, I will literally feel it with you because I'm that sensitive. I loved it, and I still do, I won't lie - I miss it sometimes because it did open my mind and enhance every thing in me. Getting high was like the world being lit up, and you're mind grasping what truly was happening around you. But I don't think I was ready for things to be enhanced, or for my mind to grasp anything because essentially if you're broken, that's what it enhances when you down. Man, I hated the down. And some days, I'd keep smoking and smoking, and running and running. I basically smoked about 11 - 12 times a day, sometimes more, sometimes less, but it was so that I'd never have to encounter myself. I felt free, but it was only because I had accepted the comfort of the prison I'd created for myself.

But you know what they say, when you get home at night, and you're about to go sleep, tripping or not, you're right there in the dark with yourself. And then the black would curl around my limbs, and seep into my ears and other orifices in my face and completely take over my mind. Black, black, black. I thought about death more than anything, my own death of course, and just quitting. Because nothing seemed enough anymore, my life was a hole in the face of the earth, a void.

One day I just knew what I needed to do, that I wasn't going to let it cloud my judgment and fill my eyes, lungs, heart and mind with plumes of beautiful white smoke that left black remnants behind each day. I'm not proud of what I have done, but I'm thankful that I can say I've been there, I've experienced it, something so negative completely taking over your life.

Let me just say this, I stopped because I knew I had to, what I wanted to do for me and I believed I could do it, even though I was offered rehab. We underestimate our minds and it's ability, you need to make the choice and realize what's wrong before you can mend. And mend, you can.

Now I've just got something else, and when I lie in bed at night, and His spirit comes over me, I'm blessed, but I'm not coming down.

P.S I love my friends that smoke, because they're funny as hell to watch.

Journey

Tonight, I had a bit of an emotional moment; it's funny how we only call the ones where we're crying or angry emotional moments, but anyway. Firstly I don't even feel like I could get real angry anymore - which is weird because I've had anger issues for a really long time. But when I was reminded of this I just became sad instead of angry.

Since you've read my work, you know a lot about me, I hope you get that. That all of this is really personal to me and dear to my heart and soul, what I write here is basically what I feel in my heart and soul.

I'm the bad influence friend.
Let me say that again, in more words, I am the kid your mom urges you to stay away from - and I literally have had friends parents going around and saying that I should be stayed away from because I'm a bad influence.

And I never understood it, or I did to a certain extent. I'm not very talkative, especially to my friends parents because I was raised to believe that adults are adults and kids are kids, so I've never spoken to or approached my friends parents as if they were my friends; even though all of my friends tended to do this. I always thought it was my silence, the way I kind of just stared off into space and spoke when spoken to that freaked my friends parents out. And tonight I was reminded about it. And it broke my heart, because I'm trying to be better and am still reminded about how some parents believe that I'm their kids mistake friend.

I get it now though, because I took a moment to think about it. I know my friends know it; I'm not actually into peer pressure, I actually don't believe in it a bit because I believe that you should be mentally strong in enough in yourself as a person in order to say no when you want to. But it's not about that.

I think my influence was more me speaking about my beliefs, to be comfortable in who and what you are. I have always believed in the human; that we are in this world to feel and embrace the world in it's dirty beauty. I think that I influenced those around me to start being true to themselves, I'm very bad at chit chat. So when I speak, it usually is about how it's important to feel what you're feeling and to be real with yourself. And I think that a lot of the time our parents don't want us to be real with ourselves and actually feel what's happening around us; to remain numb to the world. I think that some of my friends might have understood that and therefore gone on to join me in smoking a spliff or drink too many bottles of vodka. So it could seem like I'd influenced them with the drugs and booze, but it was always so much more than that.

So much has changed in my life, but those core ideals; that you have to be real with yourself, they still remain and are only strengthened now by Him.

I will never be able to change their minds, but I will prove them wrong. When I was reminded of it again tonight, I knew I'd have to bring it to Him, to pray about it, and cry about it, because I needed to feel it.

So I opened the Bible on a random page; first it was on the building of one of the temples of God and all the effort, measurements, detail and glory that went into the building of it. I didn't understand what I was reading till I closed the bible and reopened it, but what I understand from it now was the amount of time and detail went into my creation, of my mind, body and soul. That He took the time, to create my mind and body in His image, everything in me is as He intended. That I too, am His temple.

And the next time I opened it, it was to the Gospel of Mark. This is where my emotions were truly evoked, because as I read I began crying. Because it was about how Jesus chased out and destroyed those using the temple as a market and being sinful in it. To me, this was a metaphor for my life, how I'd recently turned to Him and He had chased out my demons, that had been breaking me down and causing darkness in my life.

As I read further, I got to the lesson of the Fig Tree (Mark 11: 20 - 25) and in this passage Jesus speaks about how anyone who has faith will overcome anything, if you ask for something and believed in it, God would grant it to you. And that if you forgave those who have hurt you, God too will forgive them.

I read more, but the next that hit me was "The Great Commandment" (Mark 12: 28 - 34) and this is where Jesus says "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all of your strength" and then "Love your neighbor as you love yourself."

These words resonated with my life, and where I was at that precise moment so perfectly And it was utterly beautiful that He would take me on this journey of accepting who I am, to learning to pray and forgive, to loving those around me. That I would read the very words I prayed for every night, read about the very strength I had asked to have and the very love I'd asked for the ability to show.

Before I go, these others hit me as well, just have a read okay, and think about how they resound meaning in your own life. Both also found when I opened the bible at random, I like the idea that He is speaking to me this way.

"If the world hates you, just remember that it has hated Me first. If you belonged to the world, then the world would love you as its own. But I chose you from this world, and you do not belong to it; that is why the world hates you." (John 16: 18 - 20)

"I have told you this, so that you will not give up your faith. You will be expelled from the synagogues, and the time will come when anyone who kills you will think that by doing this he is serving God. People will do these things to you because they have not know either the Father or me." (John 16: 1 - 4)

"And he went on to say, "It is what comes out of a person that makes him unclean. For from the inside, from a person's heart, come the evil ideas which lead him to immoral things, to rob, to kill..." (Mark 7: 20 - 22)

Leprosy Soul

So let's picture our souls as something divine, beautiful almost, when we were born it was made completely in the imagine of God after all. A white page. Some would say that when you commit acts of sin, that it is like black spots forming on your soul - the white page. I'm telling you - you wish. Because then you could just use an eraser, or cover it up, I'm being metaphorical. Keep up.

Our souls are plagued by sin. A priest, quite the dramatic man, that preached in church today, said that "Leprosy is a metaphor for sin" "An illness that each of us are living with, and spreading, and unable to find a cure for" and quite like someone suffering from Leprosy, we watch our souls, the very essence of our beings fall apart, burst into sores, and we rip away at the very flesh of our oh-so-delicate humanity. And we do it for small moments of pleasure on this earth. So like the page, it isn't black spots, or black splurges of ink, rather our souls are taking flame and bits of it, is being burnt off bit by bit, until finally we are left with a fragmented version of what we once were, and ash at our feet. And there really is no way of putting something turned to ash back together - unless of course, you allow yourself to admit that this is what you're doing to your soul. And say sorry - and mean it.

I think we need to stop blaming everyone around us for our own leprosy, it's not about who infected us, but rather that we allowed ourselves to be infected. And continue to allow ourselves to fall apart, instead of fighting our own pride, and to admit that we are nothing and only He can help us.

I feel like a lot of the time, the things I write are centered on God, but I'm not going to apologize, I almost understand that I will lose people in my life because of it. I won't apologize, but I'll say excuse me, to those of you reading who don't understand, but really the center of my life is God. How am I supposed to write, when the very bases of my writing comes from Him and what He has given me?

Please let me know what you think, or if you wanna talk about anything at any point. Follow me on Twitter ok? @LynnSeale

Puppy Love

My friends, have heard this over and over again so if you know me - you probably don't have to read this again. But bare with me, as I try and explain this phenomena to you.

I have two pitbulls; Lemon and Johnny. Lemon is the girl and is possibly a year and a half older than Jo, and up until the day he was brought to our home, she was the apple of the eye of everyone in our family, she was the baby and we all adored her - I mean, we still do, but bare with me - you haven't seen Jo's face yet. Lemon, was a year and a half, and was still called Puppy, because we all babied her and treated her like a baby, even though she was a fully grown pitbull.

The day Lemon set eyes on Jo, who was this small chubby unknown creature to her, she changed. My beautiful female Puppy, once so clumsy and jumping on everyone went absolutely and utterly tense as she saw the little being in front of her. I feel like in that moment her instinct kicked in, because she went tense because she didn't know what to do, she didn't want to move because she would hurt him if she did and when he would try and walk around - she would walk above him, so that she could protect him. She changed completely, she wanted to sleep on him and licked him for hours on end, and Lemon had never ever been put in the position of having to be a mother, or a woman for that matter, but she loved him instantly.

And in that moment, she sort of taught me a bit about love, and so did he. I mean, they didn't know one another, but her instinct was to be whatever he needed from her, a mother, a chew toy, whatever he needed. And he just wanted to be loved, so innocently and purely. For months, nothing else mattered, she would run off and bark and immediately go and check on him. If people touched her, she would be fine, but if anyone tried to touch him, she'd snap. And he'd just lick her nose and go on doing what he was doing.

Jo is now big and clumsy, he still thinks his a puppy so he jumps on me and almost pushes me over. But now? She is his life, she is kind of bored of him now, so she goes about her day, probably playing hard to get, and he stares and stares. He lays down, he looks to see that she is okay. I give them food, he eats his and then finishes hers, she barks, he barks. She runs, he chases her. He just stares and stares at her, always watching her to make sure she's okay. And I actually really do not want to see the day she isn't, and Johnny actually snaps. It's the most spectacular thing, that she use to look after him and now his entire world is focused on her.

I just love their pure instinct to love one another, that to him, she is everything he needed, she use to look after him, then play with him and will eventually be the mother of his children. To her, she went from protecting him, to having the man in her life who would give anything to make sure she is okay. It's the instinct, that it is so natural for them to fall in love and to love, that somehow taught me a bit about love.

I seriously love my dogs, haha

I'm thinking of you

Not a day goes by, that I don't sit and think about what you're doing or how you are. Whether your hearts intact, and your mind isn't lost in all of this and that. Not a day goes by where I don't wish to call out your name because I'm hoping that maybe I would get a response. It's kind of childish really, how being in your presence sort of makes me feel safe. Like He knew that I'd find bits of Him in you. You make the world seem clearer, you inspire me to be better, and you showed me forgiveness before I even understood it.

 You see, people mean everything but nothing to me, in my heart - I wanna help those around me, find light, see light and accept that they are light. But that only means I care for their soul. I really want them to let their spirituality and being take control. With you, it really is about every inch of your being, your cute little toes, the way you stare at me, sort of take care of me and the way you say seattle. You're beautiful to me. I have never found a human soul so scared of loving, but so open to taking the risks it requires. This isn't some romantic gesture. I want you to know that you are in my heart and that wherever you are, and however you are, I'm thinking of you.

Trouble in Paradise

12:30

I just woke up, sort of crap actually with my mom hammering on my door, and asking me to go buy bread, and yelling something or other about it being passed twelve already. And then walking to the shop, I was just tripping on life and my purpose, and my things are seemingly good and then the exact opposite, or sometimes seemingly bad and then the opposite. Why can't life and everything around us sort of just be honest? It starts with me, being honest with myself. Realizing that there are things I do not have control over, people I cannot change and voices I cannot pull out of shadows. So here I am now, lying on my bed and about to go back to sleep for a bit, just gonna do a bit of running for the day. My mental exercise, a break from the beautifully overwhelming storm raging in my soul and chest. I definitely am going to say a prayer first though.

16:11

I've woken up with a pounding headache and the need to feed my dogs actually. I feel much better, sleep tends to make the world seem better and I'm thankful that I prayed before I slept because that means my mind didn't dwell on trivial things that are annoying me as much as it usually does. I wish I actually understood why I feel so absolutely off though, but I do think that I'm understanding and taking it in, allowing myself to feel this way, even though I am sleeping through most of it. People get sad okay? Don't forget that, and I'm not actually sad. But people don't always feel great. And that's the problem we have with religion, we expect to remain on that high ALL of the time. But like I said, in Yolo, we have to feel bad sometimes in order to appreciate the good. And that's why I'm okay that my Savior has chosen to urge me to feel this way today. Anyway, about my dogs - I should go do that.

16:46

I've got it. Well atleast I think I do, I'm not a poet, I'm not a novelist but I am a writer. And now and then my words may rhyme, and my metaphors may suggest a brighter-than-sunlight future in novels, but for now. I'm a writer. And that's what I want to be. What God has absolutely given me. I tried showing people what I'd been writing as poetry, the other versions of me? But maybe that part of my writing growth isn't ready for you guys yet okay? Because poetry, that would determine whether or not I was truly free, and was completely and openly honest with you viewing me. So for now, you just get the thoughts and the ramblings, the things that stop me in my tracks and push me into sprints. The words that tumble from my fingers, because my mouths closed. I'm glad I can write, I'm glad I'm willing to write, because we all can, we're just all not inclined to express ourselves through words instead of splats, or swirls.

The point of this entry, is what I've just realized, by the way, this happens so often, where I only figure out the point at the very end. But here's the point: FIND YOUR OUTLET, the one you're comfortable with, the thing you think about doing when you wake up in the morning or when you're lying in the bath. Think of how you can SHOW others what your insides are about.

Remember: Your art is your inward God given grace showing those around you the light of the world.

Do you know what scares me?

Do you know what scares me? That there are versions of me that some will never get to see. Like my mom, will she ever understand that beauty I find in the written word and spoken tongue, will she ever get that life goes beyond all that we see, and say. That I am feelings, that there are things I believe in and that there are lines and lines of words that string together to create my soul.

Do you know what scares me? That there are versions of me that some will never get to see.
Like the guidance counselor at high school who busted me for smoking pot, instead of trying to keep me focused on the things I was not. Who was more worried about the schools name, then about what and who I became.

Do you know what scares me? That there are versions of me that some will never get to see. Like that kid I once bullied, who's day I ruined because I wanted to be better. And now all I am is sorry, that all I was, was a broken mess in a crappy school dress trying to figure out ways to find my way in the haze of an education so cruel; killing my creativity, nothing I was eating there filling me.

Do you know what scares me? That there are versions of me that some will never get to see. Like my ex girlfriends mom, who still probably thinks I'm smoking a bong and biting her daughter. She'll never know about the feelings in me, that are leading me to be better, better for me.

Do you know what scares me? That there are versions of me that some will never get to see. Like that priest who heard my confession, who I told about the women I loved, and the things I cried about. He'll never know that he did almost nothing for my soul, that he didn't change a thing. He just hated on me, for being me.

Do you know what scares me? That there are people who will never meet me, that will never encounter my mind and take the time to learn about me, about the things I could be. That I could never change their mind, about things they believed truly defined them.

YOLO

You see, there are many moments in our lives that change us forever. These moments, are the ones we remember, the ones we lie in bed at night and dwell on because they either scare us, we wished they had never ever happened or they make us smile uncontrollably. I'm going to ask you, for one moment to not wish that whatever it is this opening paragraph has brought to mind had never happened and to remember.

There are some things in our lives, that have broken us, left our souls undone and our hearts feeling bruised and heavy for years. But you will never truly be strengthened by these moments until you start accepting them. Think for a moment that all the pain you had endured had never happened, that you had lived a life easy and simple. Would you still be the person you are today? The beautifully broken but stitched and seemingly fine but actually confused you. 

If I hadn't had my heart broken so often, and a somewhat, at some stages, very rocky family life or if I had not been suffering with a depression that ridiculed me and turned most of my life black. Then no, I would not have been here, I would not be able to so eloquently ask you to forgive those who have hurt you, to accept what life has dealt you, and to not fold. You see, I no longer feel sorry for myself because of the things I have gone through, I feel redeemed from it, I thank God everyday that He has brought me out of that. You see, light isn't so bright when you haven't been sitting in dark for a long time. The sun doesn't feel as good on your skin if it had not been battered by raindrops. The contrasts in your life, and those moments of heart breaking impact, is what makes you appreciate the absolute beauty in the moments that calm you, hold you content. 

The moments of impact might not be bad, a first kiss, a smile your crush gave you or your first encounter with God. But all of these moments are what rockets your life into a direction, a road untaken, a journey you have not been on before. 

So what the hell, you only live once. YOLO. People ridicule me for saying it, but I truly believe in those words. When they say you live everyday, you do, but you never stop living until you die, it's continuous, so yes YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE. But you have to make the most of it. There is no need to be scared, you will be okay, in the end when your feet are bruised from the rocky road and your face is sunburnt from the glaring sun, you will feel whole again. Always. 

You are only allowed one opportunity in this world, to make a change, to make a mark. Believe it or not, when you're gone, you're gone and that's it. I'm sorry for being morbid, but it really is the truth. So appreciate your moments of impact, let them shove you off into a thousand different directions and emotions, and allow yourself to feel, to be, to experience. You're only allowed one chance, so you better appreciate every single moment of it, while you still can.

Coitus Interruptus

There is this profound beauty in sex. And when I say sex, I mean the act, coitus interruptus. I mean the act of being truly visceral and beautifully primitive with another human being. Bare with me, because in the definition of coitus interruptus, it's the combining of male and female genitalia and when I speak, I'm speaking about all acts of sex.

In society today, it is almost acceptable to allow yourself to give up pieces of your soul easily, just for the pure bliss of the moment. But what about truly looking at sex, and understanding the spirituality and emotional connections that go with it? Are we allowing ourselves to be honest enough, to say that when someone is touching us, they are not just physically caressing our skin but also strumming the very strings to our soul.

When you connect with someone on that level, you are allowing them to see the true, naked and honest version of you; naked not only in the literal sense, but in the figurative sense of the word; nudity of the soul. Don't fool yourself into thinking that it is just physical, because we are all human and we feel. When you have sex with someone, you are letting them in to the very essence of your human nature and animal instinct, when they touch you and a moan slips out of your lips, they are learning about the very parts of you that make you come undone. When someone stares into your eyes, or even strokes your skin, they are connecting with you on a level far beyond any physical nature, whether you want to accept it or not.

Don't over think it, you're probably thinking. But I'm going to, I'm going to because we need to realize that we are giving pieces of ourselves, snapshots of ourselves at our true nature and bits of our soul to every single person we have sex with. And you will always remember it. You will remember the moment you shared with that person, even if at the time you expected it to mean nothing, you now have a connection with that person, a string however thin and slight, that puts the two of you together. They have something of you that you will never be able to take back.

So to all of you fooling yourself into believing it is just fun, your soul is being broken off bit by bit, like a pieces of bread and it's time that you start realizing it. I don't expect you to stop, maybe it makes you feel less alone, or maybe it brings you momentary comfort. But eventually, it will be over and if done with the wrong person, you will be left alone thinking of them at night, because they are thinking of you. And how both of you now hold pieces of the others soul in your own.

Sex is a inter lacing and intertwining of spirit and soul, body and mind connecting in order to create a moment so divine, it sometimes makes grown men cry after they orgasm. It is something not to be taken lightly, you are a temple of God, your soul is where He stays and you must never forget your worth or the worth of that simple moment.

So next time, just make sure the person is worth giving a piece of your soul too.

Tua semper et in aerternum ero

Nothing I do anymore, is done simply because I need to or want to. I feel a sense of pride and purpose in every action I make in my life, all through His mercy and grace.

When I brush my teeth, I now close my eyes and savor the moment in which not only all the plaque and old food is brushed from my teeth and tongue but rather how now every hurtful and negative thing that slipped between my lips is being washed away bristle by bristle.

When I clean my ears, I am cleaning out every unsavory and bitter thing I had to listen to. Every hurtful word that was endured even though they appeared to fall on deaf ears, every horrid thought I'd had and every painful bit of news I listened to gets taken from my ears.

When I wash my face, I no longer just cleanse my pores but rather clean out the frowns and lying smiles, and replace it with a graceful and altered face, windows washed and gleaming; the light from my soul able to pour from it like the light of the morning sun.

When I wash my hands, I wash the clenching of fists and the need to punch people in the face and replace it with a desire for change and a willingness to write and type the things He has lead me to write. The willingness to hold hands that need strength, and a need to place them over my heart as I ask for mercy.

When I walk, I pray that every step I take is in the right direction, the direction of His choosing, and one that will set me on a path that will evoke my destiny, and my calling in this world.

I lay there and thought about how I no longer have hate in my heart, that it is replaced by a kindness for those who do not understand and know what love means. I've been told over and over again that because I love women it is a sin, and I could never accept that until now, now I accept that they believe I am sinning, but I now feel Christ's love. He allows me to see that who I love should not be bounded, but placed on whom ever I meet and fall in love with, because like His love, mine must be endless and boundless.

I believe that every word I utter, thought I hear, thing I touch has to be in honor of Him. That when I hear things that test my faith, I must simply look up to Him, and say save me from temptation, set me free from this world.

My father use to tell me that my body was a temple and should never be pierced or tattooed, but I now see my piercings and tattoos as an act of adoration, I see it as adorning this temple, to something I love and appreciate as much as He does.

I believe that at the time I got my tattoo, Tua semper et in aerternum ero, I was getting it for someone else. I often thought and joked about the fact that "I belong to you always and forever" was somewhat ambiguous and could mean whatever I'd like it to. And I always thought that maybe when I found Him, it could be for Him. And now it is, because I will belong to God always and forever. He knew even before I did, that I would not always belong to Her. So maybe He was smiling at my ignorance at the time, and now is smiling once again as I realize who it is really for.

Everything you do, is based on the intention that comes with it and I know that He knows my intentions before I even think of them. If you believe who you love, how you love and how you act is in honor of Him, then maybe it is okay. Unless you're harming those around you, and stealing from another's chance at mercy and grace.

I'm a soldier for God, and He has instilled in me the ability to write as my weapon and my ability to think as my shield. I no longer fear this world, but I feel hope in it's ability.

 I love Him. I love Him. I love Him.

My Saviour, Tua semper et in aerternum ero. I belong to You, always and forever.

It didn't matter

It didn't matter,
It didn't matter that in that point in time the world was happening around us, that children were crying and stores were being robbed.
It didn't matter, that those around us didn't understand what we were doing, or why our hearts had aligned in such a way that our souls felt almost in tune.
It didn't matter that we would have to endure painful hours of not seeing one another, that we would have to get used to the idea of a communication only stemming over a telephone pole, rather than the calm ebbing of our hearts and breathing as we lay there so sure of us, and so uncertain of everyone else.
It didn't matter.
None of it mattered because when we lay in that bubble, the world that forms around this entity of you and me, it is as if the trials and trivial troubles that torment us have simply vanished. And all that is left is both of our hearts, reaching out, like hands clasping at sheets in the dead of night searching for its counterpart, it was a sense of belonging and a deep felt understanding.
It didn't matter that maybe someone would have a problem with us, or that people wouldn't accept us.
It didn't matter that both of our hearts had been cracked before by fists so carelessly striking our soul.
It didn't matter that fear plagued both of us because we didn't feel alone.
It didn't matter that our minds would unroot all that was beautiful and turn it to dust because it was who we are.
It didn't matter because it mattered.
We mattered enough for everything else to stop mattering, just for once.
None of it matters,
Not like you matter to me anyway.

I am a Writer

I'm a writer, I'm a writer,

I'm silent revolutionary revelation fighter. 

I'm my roots, and my chains, 

I am everything the past as asked of me but nothing my future has seen before. 

I'm a miracle, blessed with an insight of a world so destined for greatness, 

but so intent on mediocrity. 

I'm going to keep begging you for change, 

until the final day of my death, 

when I breathe my last breath. 

I'm a writer, I'm a writer.

A big part of me, has told myself that maybe I shouldn't write as often because it might numb down my expression if there's too much of it. But then I again I also understand that my expression, which I'm throwing in your face essentially, has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. 

As I lay here, having slept all day and now am lying in the darkness of my room, I find myself not missing anything but a woman. A woman that too has been put on this earth, and a woman so greatly and beautifully created, I sometimes have to stop and just think wow. Someone who makes me question my own ability, and thinks more of my art then I ever could. 

I am intent on surrounding myself with souls older in this world, who feel more than others do when they've been told to shut up, because they have so much more meaning to add to the madness. I love the people who have surrounded me and molded me, who walk with me on this immense and absolutely beautiful journey. As I watched them find themselves, in their own hearts, in their art and in their passion, I rediscovered my own longing for contentment and peace in who I was.

The people you surround yourself with, defines you. That's what your mum always said, well it is what my mum always did. I don't argue that, and I am okay with the fact that my mother will never see the people I surround myself with as the absolutely beautiful and shatteringly inspirational people that they are. I did choose to have them in my life. They do define me. Those conversations in my room, with joints, cheap rose and too many cigarettes are moments in my life I look back on and thank God for the enlightenment He has blessed my life with. They have taught me how to say the words, my heart had already been crying out but I had never been able to write down. They have taught me the freedom in fighting, and writing every inch of your soul in a language that others may be able to understand. 

So thank you, to all those who have guided me, those who have inspired and awed me as they sat there telling me their stories, their journey and their hearts. We are the generation of irrationally rational and infinitely fumbling, but majestically made creatures, and I could not have asked for more in my life. 

Are you being honest with yourself?

We are told over and over again not to lie, that the truth will set you free, that it will allow a sense of contentment and peace within you and that lying always leads to more lies. But when I think of being told not to tell lies, it is often meant that I should not lie to others. Before I actually speak about what I want to, I’m going to tell you the truth, I’m a brilliant liar, and that’s why I hate it. You see, my family and the adults in my life that have over the years somewhat molded me, have to a certain extent openly tried to coerce me into lying to myself. And I went along with it for a long time, and then I woke up to this beautiful mess.

Again and again, society is basically selling us a lie and so is our economy. I’m not some anti –capitalist, I just don’t appreciate being told that the meaning of my life is my material stance. That the brilliance of my art is based on how much someone else is willing to pay for it rather than how much of me is in it. I do not like being told that I am meant to only love one type of person and that I am a rebel because I believe life is larger than the things of this world.

How often are you honest with yourself?

How often do you walk down the streets and openly admit to yourself that you are doing nothing about the fact that people are starving, that there are children who do not have books and we are skipping class, that maybe just maybe, it is not okay that right now a woman is getting raped by a man she is married to. How often do we truly look into a mirror, and look passed the basic flaws we focus on and stare deep into the eyes that the world sees, deep into the windows of a soul so scared of originality and wrecked by the idea that we just simply will not be liked. How often are we honest that we actually have a choice, a choice not to stand back and let the world go raucous, that like men and women before us we too have to ability to stand up and fight for freedom. How often do you let yourself truly express who you are without faking it, without smiling so that no one will ask, and without bending in order to remain unseen?

I want to see you, all of you. I am not scared of your nudity, because I’d rather know you than a doppelganger of what society thought to be a great person.

I’m never going to lie to you. Your education system wants you to become another numbed out version of your predecessors, that you are smart when you can tell them things they already know, and cocky when you allow yourself to think. We are not inspired to be creative, to reach beyond the bars of the prison cells that is our own intelligence, and briefly grasp at a sense of freedom, a sense of majesty and awe that one finds when expressing themselves. That we are not urged to do what we love, but rather do the things others love.

There is only one you, and the world deserves to see the wonder that is you, God did not create you in the mould of someone else, He took his time to create a wonder of this world. And it really is time you start believing it.

Seeking Humanity

In the deepest catacombs of my soul, burning like a fire that creeps up in the darkness of night, is a willingness to rise above all that I've been told I should stand for, all that I've been made to believe. Really child, this world is not as it seems.

The wrinkles on the faces of old women and men are not just signs of old age to me anymore, now I see them as writings of weariness, or loneliness, those wrinkles represent years in a world that took from the starving to feed the rich. A world that lingers on a billion things that will all eventually turn to dust when a sun we're egging on, eventually burns out.

We look after nothing, and we break everything for the simple reason of seeing whether or not we can put it back. Our faith is rendered to whether or not we can quote scripture, rather than whether or not we would give up everything for another.

I hold this world so dear to my heart, because I believe in everything we could be. We end wars so that we can start another, we believe in money instead of light and we dance in darkness instead of fighting for peace. It is as if our spirits have absolutely become numb to the very idea that we are more than just platinum cards.

As long as I live, I am willing to fight for a humanity that will feed the hunger, instead of allowing them to starve in order to prolong the reign of the greedy. We are not finite. Our effect on this planet is definite, and I cannot leave behind material things that simply will fade out eventually because someone else does me better.

When did we stop asking questions about this life, and instead start answering questions others have asked over and over again?

I sit in silence, I pray in darkness that light will remain throughout the darkness, that strain will be put on complacency and materialism, that we will rise above what others have told us matters.

Do we even realize that we are just here in human form, and that our souls will eventually linger on long after us, unable to reclaim the very things we found important on earth?

I wish we laughed harder, and loved further, that the bounds of our conscience were not only kept in tact by a laws in a constitution, but rather enhanced by a faith in the human person.
We have the ability to think, but we blind ourselves everyday in order to momentarily feel good. We claim intelligence, when all we harvest is bitterness.

I pray that we learn to love again, and to be better each day, to fight wars on poverty and hatred, and to fight them by living as models of what the human race could be.

It is as if I feel plagued by my own humanity instead of feeling empowered. I will not be complacent, I will not stand by and watch this world give in to itself. I will not be rendered speechless.

Destined for Love

My views of Destiny and Love are somewhat cliche. But I like keeping them that way, in hopes that one day when I do meet the Love of My Life, I will be able to ensure that they feel loved and destined to be with me in the exact same cliche and childish sense.

Our stars are intertwined, there are billions of us in the world and we walk passed one another, day in and day out. You smile or don't smile at the person who passes you in the cafeteria, you only sit next to your friends in class and maybe when you're out one night someone comes up to you and the conversation starts with "You're on my campus right?" and months later, you realize that someone who has made an impact on your life had been sitting two rows up from you in English the entire time. But I believe that chance would have it that we meet those we are destined to meet in our lives at the precise moment we do. That the Love of My Life will come into my life when I am ready, and capable of dealing with the idea. Or maybe I won't be ready, maybe I'll be a blabbering fool and they'd be the one to pat me on the head or rub my back as I puke, but the idea is the same. They will come when they are meant to. Destiny is fate, that you accept what your life has been up till now. It isn't, however, an excuse to become complacent and kinda wait around for things to happen to you, because our fate isn't set in stone. I believe that as we make the choices we do, so our paths take different routes and eventually lead to our final destination.

Romantic comedies has absolutely ruined love for us, we see it as this gorgeous and hypnotic emotion, that puts stars in our eyes, and makes everyone seem perfectly suave. I will admit that I have thought I've been in love before, thrice to be precise. And well, the last one which I was really certain about now seems like a chapter in the book of my life that I will look back at one day and say "Really?" Love is, this absolutely unprecedented and vividly overwhelming emotion, it will scoop you up when you least expect it and settle you down hard on your ass. And you know what? You'll be absolutely thankful that it hurts so bad, because if it didn't, then your person wouldn't have the moment to absolutely take your breath away as they help you up. Falling in love won't be easy, why else would they say falling? They could have said Drifting in love, but it's not a drift, it's a very big tumble and then your world topples upside down. In my life right now, I'm opting to figure things out for a bit. And so for me, this means finding out whether or not I am truly ready to fall on my face and then accept help from the very person that tripped me. I believe love is why we are human, that have the ability to feel that connection is what strengthens us. I have recently also taken to the idea that Love is what God showed us when he sent his only son to die for us. Us, this group of people who worship material wealth, and adore our sin as if it keeps us company. He loved us that much. Now I don't know about you, but I sure as hell am waiting for someone who's willing to love me in any way close to that. fk