The Nameless Thing.

My dreams are faceless, soundless things. They hold no weight, choosing instead to settle themselves within the curve of my collarbone or the stoop of my (less than perfect) posture. I can feel them radiating their warmth and encouragement. And sometimes when trigger words pop into my everyday life, I could feel my dreams shudder, as if suddenly awakened by a force too great to name.

I want to name it "hope" but I'm afraid.

So it remains this nameless thing, causing my dreams to tremble and shine and move me in the way only dreams could. And I could feel their energy in the pit of my stomach, where my fear resides, bubbling and ready to overflow. I could feel them in my heart, where this nameless thing unfurls momentarily and leaves me breathless. It's a beautiful terrifying moment.

Some part of me, that believes in the universe trying to communicate and set us confused humans on the right path, believes that these triggers are the universe's way of saying, "Go on, this is yours! Do it! Don't be afraid!" And for a split second, resolve burns within me and I feel light-headed with possibility. But then there's another part. A quieter part. A deeper part, that whispers, "You'll only fail. You'll always fail. Don't even bother. What's the point?" And just like that, the resolve crumbles inside me. I feel angry at myself. I'm ashamed of my cowardice. I want to scream back at that quiet part of me that always makes me feel so small. I want to fight those words that always makes me hesitate.

But I don't.

Instead, I move through the world with my weightless dreams clinging to me as if they are all that's left in my life. And when a trigger word pops back into my existence, I savor that beautiful moment when I feel my dreams shake and shimmer. I smile at that familiar, nameless feeling opening in my heart and I allow myself a brief moment to consider that the maybe the universe really is showing me the way. It hasn't given up on me. It wants me to be brave and take a chance. One day I'll shake off the whispers that hold me back and I'm gonna answer the universe's call.

Worth It.

There are things in this world worth living for.

You just have to find them.

For me, it's the people in my life who have somehow gotten close to me. They've squeezed their way through my silence and my fears and they've burrowed their own little holes in my heart. My heart's like a little honeycomb filled with people who have yet to give up on me.

That really matters to me. They really matter to me.

And they keep me going. I put them in a to-do list in my mind and schedule seeing them for sometime in the middle and end of the week. That way I can ensure that I go through the motions, do what I'm suppose to do and then I am rewarded with their presence.

We do fun things. Laugh, loiter, become way too loud on public transportation as we talk about our exhausting day to day lives. And for that moment, I feel normal. Like I have things to say. Like I'm worthwhile.

And we eat delicious foods and I feel full. It's not just the food that makes me feel this way. When I go home and I prepare for bed and I think and worry and wonder, they are part of my thoughts, pushing away the gray, at least momentarily. And this feels good. I sleep.

And then I wake up, knowing there are things in this world worth living for.

Return

How long has it been since I've posted anything on this?

A very long time. Perhaps too long, since in between that long space my mind has been swimming and thoughts have been stirring that has both elated and terrified me. Thoughts of the future, a fantasy of success and independence has been trumped by the reality of insatiable bills and poor pay and the utter suckishness of being an adult. 

But I've been reading a lot of positive literature like, "The Secret" and writings by Deepak Chopra and I'm kinda convinced that in order to lead a happier less suckish life, I have to believe in it. So I daydream. And I work. And I fill my mind with bursts of color that drowns out the gray that seems to spread into my vision like black oil in a clean body of water. I mean, life isn't that bad. Not really. So there's no reason to cry about it. 

I have The Walking Dead to look forward to. 

Game of Thrones too. Awesome. 

And it's autumn, my favorite time of year. Pumpkins! Scary movies! Fall foliage! Wee!

So it's not that bad. 

I just need to work on the gray fringes of my life. Get some more color in there. Jump in a rainbow or something like that. 

I'll see how it goes. 

Here you can call the shadow your brother
And the light your distant friend
But there is no
Other
Companion closer than your skin
Your heart
Your mind
And the silence that curves between
The length of  your breaths

Rain

Today all I can feel is the phantom presence of rain. The air is colder, cleaner and I'm waiting for it to come. I'll watch it through the window and as always, try to work up the nerve to just run out there and let it drown me out completely. Sometimes I feel all that I am is ink, blood and water. All I need is the rain to deconstruct me, wash me away.

Weariness

I am tangled between frailty and falling. My nights feel chopped and unfulfilled. My sleep is fragile, suspended in cobwebs, easily ripped and left to the flight of the wind. I think…I’m forgetting how to dream. I’ve forgotten how to close my eyes and wander.  Words cling to me and I shove them off. They anger me, the frighten me...I don't want to disappoint them.  I need time to rest, I need time to think. But everything is just so disjointed. I barely know if this is the beginning of something or the end. It’s all such chaos.

And then I think about chaos, and I see fire and rock. I see the formation of something beautiful within the disorder. And I’m squinting, trying to stay focused, trying to keep this image within me. My eyes are weary. I’m just so tired.

Knots

I stare at them and wonder if this is symmetry. How can they fold into themselves that way? What does it mean? Sometimes I want to untie them, slowly unfurl what they are until I reach the center. I want to know what it is they try to hide.

I'm afraid of what I'll find.

Maybe it's a whole new way to see myself. Maybe right now I'm like that knot and I need to unravel myself, I need to expose what's hidden inside.

How does one begin the act of exposure? How do you cope with the vunerability of being seen?

It's a cloudy Tuesday morning and I'm bending and twisting myself until all you see is the intricate outline. There's something delicate inside. I'm afraid to let it be shown.