darkness

8/23/2015 – Day Twelve.

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I am not here.

I am suppose to be present, be here now. Lately, I feel completely disconnected, that a drop from the sky would send shivers down my spine.

I am not here. I continue to tell myself.

I should be taking in my surroundings. Taking in the culture, the people, the language, the streets, the movers and the shakers. Listening to the vibrancy of the sounds on the outside, instead I close myself off to the world hiding inside. I am not here, I can’t be found. Finding myself sitting in empty chairs, patiently waiting, very still. Waiting for something, anything to see me. Be here now.

Watching shadows cast themselves over me. I’ve spend so much of my time talking, explaining, forming words to explain this descend into madness. I am tired of talking. All I ever do in life is talk and open up my insides for the world to see, that all I want to do is close myself off from the world. Explaining things to people who will pay attention then later pay no mind to when it’s gone. It’s not fair of me to take you away from your regularly scheduled programing, so I keep these feelings inside and wait this all out.

I am sitting in empty chairs, closing myself off from the world, in complete silence not explaining a thing. Sit and watch colors turn from black and white to vibrant blues and greens. I can hear voices but seldom ever see the faces. Sit in silence, not say a world. Staying completely still. Breathing softly and watching the world go by. Watching things I never noticed before, accumulate the dust of time. All those times spent looking toward other things. All the stories I’ve told that make no significance at this moment. All the things I’ve said that no longer make a difference. The longer I remain quiet the less likely people will notice me.

Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe it was always better this way.

8/17/2015 – Day Nine.

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Hello darkness, my old friend.

Darkness follows me like an old friend. Which is why I have no problem writing about it. Writing about the night skies and their equally dark rooms. When you spend a lot of time in dark rooms, you start having a deeper appreciation of low light and shadows. It’s a calming feeling in being alone with your thoughts. It’s when you open your heart to the shadows, and remind yourself of how much you have left of your journey. At this point I am not sure if my journey is beginning or ending. Or maybe I am still in the middle of this fork in the road, wondering which way to turn.

Its sitting in the dark that I wonder about many things. I replay thousands of conversations in my head. I go back and look at thousands of photographs and I can’t help but wonder. There are times I think I am being vocal about how I am feeling and reality is I am just hiding from the world. I seek comfort in this darkness that knows all my secrets. That hides my tears, sadness, and every inch of pain I am feeling. I am doing everything wrong and I know what I am doing. But hiding in this darkness keeps me from seeing everything that happens in the light. Maybe I am better off that way. Better off hiding from the world and the people that surround it. I am not doing anyone any favors and at this point I feel like the worst person in the world. When you think all your doing is being a hero and reality is you’ve always been the villain in disguise.

Lately I just want to cry about everything and hide from everyone. Hide in the shadows no matter how many times people ask me to play. It takes a big city full of millions of people to make your heart beat faster. To make yourself feel even more alone. You rely on the dark skies to bring you home. When it rains it pours, it brings out the clean slate you desperately scrub clean. I don’t have problem being alone but I hate feeling alone. Maybe it’s the sadness that makes you lonely. That has you looking out windows and praying for rain. Praying for something to take away all this pain. Surrounded by people you can’t help but wish they could bump right next to you and help you feel something, anything. Instead you avoid their glances and calculate your moves away from them. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe being alone is an overdramatic cry for help and settling is what I should be doing. Maybe I have gone through life doing things wrong and one day I’ll figure out how to fix this mess. Who knows. I just can’t help that when the sunsets enough, I am left in the dark. Others have found out how to turn the lights on but I am still adjusting to the lack of sun.

 

Sinking like a stone in the sea.

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I can’t breathe.

My body feels heavy and the more I gasp for air, the more I can’t breathe. The air fills every open space  and I still clench my chest for more. I am suffocating in this dry land, I am suffocating with thoughts closing in on every last bit of my heart. This is the end. This is how I go. The thoughts that cloud my thinking and suffocating my breathing. This is how I disappear, how the memories vanish and wash away to shore. I need a clean escape, a new beginning and everything else that follows with that.

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We all want that escape to take us away from this reality. Take us far away from whats familiar and lead us straight into the unknown. All I want is some piece of mind. Some place that helps me breathe again. Some place so deep within my soul that I can find everything I am looking for. Its not here on land, its not here in this city, its somewhere near the water with its clear blue oceanic views. Take me to the ocean with this clear blue waters. Take me to the sands as white as snow. Take me far away from this reality and help me reach the shore. Let the waters run through my body and allow the currents to wash me out to sea.

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If I sink to the bottom of the ocean, no one will find me. They’ll mourn my life but they’ll never have me. I watch every inch of my skin become consumed under water. Watch the tides come tell me their secrets as they reach the shore.  I’ll let the water fill my lungs and only then will I breathe again. It’s only in water that I feel whole again. It’s only in water that the heaviness in my heart becomes completely weightless. My body is the stone that slowly sinks down in the sea. Watching the water consume my body, I feel weightless. I am sinking but I feel weightless. As cliche as it sounds, I feel like I am finding my way back home.

Its in this water that I feel like this life wasn’t good enough for me. That I could have been anything I wanted to be, but failed miserably. I could change my life into whatever I want it to be. I can finally find my way back home. Its in these waters that I feel clean. Clean from the bullshit necessities of yesterday. Clean from the juvenile way of thinking. Clean from the belief that I haven’t done anything with my life. I clench my chest and for the first time I can breathe again. I don’t find myself gasping for air. Instead I find my beating heart, its in the moment, I feel home.

1/12/2010

My dress it hangs there.

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Life has a funny way of imitating art. Which is why I find myself loving so many photographs, paintings, and writings of everything. Art has a way of captivating you deep down into your soul. Pulling something out of you that at times you forget you still had. I think of how much my life has changed and yet, I find myself so in touch with the past. How things from our present find ways to remind us of things from years prior.

Its when I think of the past that it reminds of me of the dress. The last dress I purchased that held so much promise of color and new beginnings. How the colors so different found a way to compliment each other. I think of the last moments I wore that dress, and how after so many years the image of that dress never seems to escape me. It continues to remind me of a halfway point. The point between here and there, never fully grasping the concept of being home. Home was where I was suppose to want to be, but being in between here and there I never understood. It took a while to get myself to pick up the dress and find it a home. Because keeping it stationary meant that it would last forever in that in-between places. That seeing it day after day and how it would just hang there for the world to see. Hang there for me to one day come to conclusion that this was home again. It was my own fear of returning home and counting my losses. My own fear of seeing my life for what it was, and not some in-between place journey but coming home to pick at my scabs and start over. The dress it just hung there, waiting, patiently to be put away.

It’s been months since I’ve put the dress away. Months since I’ve worn and seen the dress. Still the image of the dress hanging between rooms, doesn’t seem to escape me. It sits waiting patiently to be put away. I think of it as the last of the decades of leaving. The last escape of this godforsaken town. But still even months after it’s been put away, I can still see it. I see the blue, green, and navy. I see the image of the dress just swaying back and forth with the life surrounding it. I see how much I loved that dress when I purchased it, I see how I couldn’t wait to never see it again.

Art has a funny way of imitating life. I can sit and stare at a painting of a dress hanging between the chaos of New York, and still think of that dress. How the dress just hung in-between here and there. How much I wished for the dress to be leaving to far off distant places and instead watched it be buried to the back of the closet. Still that image beckons to me, haunts me. I watch the life of the dress disappear into the dark mysteries of life. Waiting, patiently for the day to reappear. Waiting for the day to be brought back to life. I just can’t bring myself to wear that dress but its memory still haunts my mind from time to time. On the days when I feel like I am in-between places. I’ll never know where I am going but I know eventually I will leave this place and with me that dress will join me. Maybe soon.

But still it waits.

Patiently.

4/14/2012

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Feel again.

I’ve been everywhere and back trying to replace

Songs feel like heart beats. Another line to add to the thousand of lines already floating through your heart and bloodstream. Every once in a while a line of melody will hit you that it resuscitates you back to life. The melancholy feeling you felt years prior, slowly starts drifting away piece by piece. Songs have the same effect as people do. Just finding the right notes to reach through to you. It’ll happen in an instant and before you know it, you’re hooked.

You want to be believe that you’re invincible to the world. That through everything you’ve been through, there is no way to reach you. Its when you let your guard completely down that the walls around you start to crumble. It when you’ve let your walls come down that you let the right one in. Well, at least that’s what you want to believe. Because people always start out as pure as you want them to be. As good as its going to get. Its in that moment, that moment that you start to feel something. You feel it in your bones, moving through your veins and pumping through your heart. Just like a melody that jump starts your heart, you start to feel again.

But with you
I feel again
Yeah, with you
I can feel again

The past is the past and all you’re sure of is whats standing right in front of you. It’s not love, its not infatuation, it’s just something you can’t quite point a finger at. For this moment, this one pure moment you allow all the flaws to crumble. You allow the walls to breakdown and in the destruction, you still find your heart beating. The thousands of lines of every song you remember. The countless melodies you never forget. In that moment you feel something for someone, so much that it hurts your head.

I’m feeling better ever since you know me
I was a lonely soul but that’s the old me

Maybe nothing will become of what you feel. In a day it will all go away. Feelings don’t last forever and eventually people always turn out the way you don’t want them to be. But for a moment you felt something that took away the darkness you used to feel. Something that took all the old feelings of hurt disappear. Something that only appears in songs and through melodies that reach through your heart. Its in that song of life that allows you to feel again.

Anything and everything.

4/16/2013

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Hurt.

Scars have a way of reminding us of who we used to be. The more I glance upon my skin, the more my scars find a way to haunt me. Telling me stories of what being broken does to harm a person, more than allowing them to heal. My scars were always my battle wounds of the past, just another story to keep to myself. One day this will all disappear, I’ll find new skin to paint over the old. Isn’t that all we really want? Just a clean slate to wash over all our prior mistakes. Some days I am ready to let go of the past, other days I can’t help but think of every single detail.

Who am I, without my broken past of broken promises. Who am I, without all the chaos and sadness that surrounds me. Who am I, in the light that changes the moment the dark hits me. Most days I am just trying to keep this broken corpse together and other days I can’t wait to tear it apart. Self destructing is in my nature, it’s something I can’t escape from. I can fool everyone but I can’t seem to fool myself. Maybe all I need is to dig myself a little deeper in the hurt and cut out the pain. Get rid of all the self destructive desires and find a way to let in the good. Because everything I am feeling is bad and all I could think about is how to hurt myself and make myself bleed.

All I have left are the scars that remind me of every tragic moment in my life. Every last broken hurtful piece of flesh that bleed through every cut. Some days I can still feel it. They are memories that no matter how you suppress them, they never truly go away. Maybe the madness never truly goes away, we all just find ways to pretend we are okay. Are we ever truly okay? Can we ever just forget the past of broken promises and give way to a peaceful future? Perhaps. Or then again there’s no such thing as a peaceful future because we are so self consumed in our past prior mistakes. It doesn’t matter how many times I wrap myself up with new skin and promises of new beginnings, I find myself picking at the scabs of cuts that should have already healed.

Why do I do that to myself? Why am I so focused on the pain and fixated on the amount of hurt I put myself through?

Days I wish I could forgive myself. Forgive every hurtful dark thing I could think about. Maybe then my heart could feel whole again. Maybe then my heart would find a way to love again. But the more I dwell the more I can’t. I can’t forgive myself when the scars are the constant reminders of my mistakes. The scars find a way to open themselves up and bleed out every terrible thing I can think about. Its the scars that keep me thinking of the darkness when I should be searching for the light.

All I want is to hurt and to continue in this pain. Watch my body self destruct and be rid of this vessel and find some peace of mind. Take all my broken pieces and find some way toward the light. This dark is to heavy and the scars are too. Who knows where the future will lead me but I know this present is persistent to this hurt. Scratch, cut, and bleed my way through. Its after all the blood has drained that the hurt will go away. Only then would I find peace.

Only then I will find the light.

7/13/2007