-
Muted Response
I'm worried that my emotions are too hard for others to read. How can I fix that? When words fail, when there's the disconnect between what is said and what is felt, what's next?
Will you stay by me a bit longer? I'm 35. I can still hold out for family, yes? I just want someone that says "Whatever comes next, we will go together." Which, I suppose ( Read more... ) -
Not So Free Type
I'm 33. My job requires a control and precision that I did not have in my youth. I measure my responses and do my best to listen before responding. The result is a laconic, terse language where once I used to flow so freely. I'm mimicking the curt style of Carver and other dirty realists without any of the emotional drive behind it.
Have you ever ( Read more... ) -
15 years!
Tomorrow is 15 years of having this journal. That is all.
-
The year of the cat
It's that time of the day when the sky changes from blue to red to black. The leafs on the trees are still so green, but the first hints of gold are emerging. In this moment, in this space, I feel the connection. The cosmic fourth dimension invisible but tightly pulling me along.
I'm not ready yet. My body was a machine. Now? Not so much.
Forgive ( Read more... ) -
That feeling of infinite
I believe that part of my emotional potential is blocked behind my inability to do free writes. I feel dampened sometimes--like my emotional spectrum has been muted from misuse and neglect.
I remember flying. Flailing my arms and limbs as I propelled myself through the air. My lungs burned, the wind whipped my jacket against me. But I flew. ( Read more... ) -
2014 and Beyond
I still feel the same. Music pumps through my blood and words fill my head. The part of me that is there when I let go is the part that I like the best. For better or worse. -
Over and Over
I fear it's all repetition. My feelings of inadequacy will perpetuate. Fears will govern my day to day life for an unforeseen amount of time. I can feel the grime and sick in the air around me. No, that's not right. I can feel the sick inside me. Is it a tickle in my throat or the start of a fever and cold? I can't tell the difference between ( Read more... ) -
(Untitled)
This time of the year always makes me so introspective. I'll leave with this: I hope that I will continue to grow as a person. I have my gifts and my faults. With any luck, I will learn to discover more of each over the next year. -
(Untitled)
I am okay. -
(Untitled)
I wish I were a better writer so I could describe the infinite detail of the mundane. Moving, moving, driving, driving, where do I go? What should I do? I'm using the same notes over and over again. Repetition of sounds and words without meaning. This is the deconstruction of a limited view of fiction. Over and again ( Read more... )