Wednesday, June 13, 2012

The human heart

What makes the human heart move, gives it inspiration, makes it stop, skip a beat? Nobody has ever understood its language, its reasoning and rhyme, its method to its madness....

People are never fully aware of the impact they have on you. Sometimes a comment said in jest, an "innocent" laugh among friends to shatter the mundane quality of the day can kill a heart or two, debilitate personalities, make that spark in someone die. Sometimes a critique of another without truly thinking has functioned to damage and damper the soul when it wasn't intended that way.

We must all be careful how we involve others in our speech. Perhaps we shouldn't think others are ours to be critiqued, pulled apart and assessed.

Can you possess someone when you involve them in your conversation....take them and have your way with them? Perhaps in that instant you owned a part of them, perhaps you borrowed a very special part of them, destroyed it, and never gave it back.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

I want to be pure and unblemished. Inside, I am disfigured, and malformed, ulcers cling to my heart, intoxicated and squalid, I am a black mess. My heart proclaims beauty, shut down by clogged arteries, lungs turned black and yellow because of breathing in filthy air, believing depraved lies.

I want God to make me beautiful.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Sometimes I wonder how real one can truly be in this world? What lurks behind the veneer of people's faces and why won't they let it show? Why is it so unacceptable to be sad? People want, expect you to be happy all the time, they tell you to it truly adds something to their life when they don't even know you or your story. If you just smile because you're told, its not even genuine...don't they realize that?

This world is lined with so many emotions and back stories...if my muscles are twisted in that upright position that constitutes a smile...why is it a "smile"...? Couldn't a frown be a smile, and a smile be a frown? Who made it so?

Everybody is trying to cover up who they really, shoes, clothes, makeup...desperately searching, spending money to cover up, cover up, always shrouding, layering, covering, piling it on, never taking it off....or perhaps taking it off behind closed doors, only for family and friends. We are the most fake to people we don't even know, and then we expect them to get to know us or begin to understand us...

....sometimes when you start in that fake world with someone, it's hard to escape it.

Sunday, April 29, 2012

We exist in multiple selves, different versions. I know that now. And a lot of who we are depends on our colour, body weight, face shape, hair type. I know this now too. If I think about this piece of knowledge...the time before this, and the time now...there are two selves there. Even when we gain a new piece of information, epiphanies, revelations, there is one self that would continue on without knowing these new things, and then that burst of knowledge stirs one in different directions.

Is there one person in this earth who is completely honest? Is it actually possible to be honest at all...ever? Everything we say is sugar-coating, placating,  mollifying, because truthfully if we were honest to each other, would we even all like each other? If you told people how you truly felt, how you were truly thinking, would they still like you? Does one even tell themselves the truth?

It's funny how people exist substantially through the eyes of the thinker. If somebody thinks of me as a sex object, that type of thinking will dominate how they treat me. If a person doesn't think much of me, they will treat me the way they think of me. If they think  the world of me, they will treat me that way too.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

I feel like this world is so unfair, and you're judged just because of how you look. Stereotypes follow you everywhere, hidden within cold eyes.

Monday, December 26, 2011

...are we all waiting for this second self to arise, when shards of skin fall to your feet, when your soul is finally free...we all cry for release, except the earthly methods we use are either momentary --sky diving, bungee jumping, snowboarding--or paralyzing--drugs---searching for "highs" within the terrestrial never quite worked out well, our body tells us to put it to rest
...He didn't understand who I was, I couldnt imagine him living his whole life and missing the point..

..he wanted my body, why did the physical feel so squalid, so basic for intervals of pleasure seemed so pointless

..and yet, i understood his soul, made love to it in dreams

..because I had arrived, and he hadnt yet