Who listens?
I thought I would laugh over the steps I have taken, even dreamed of. The noise that rolls deep into my mind just cracks me. Even at times of desperate sighs I am still misunderstood in the aspects of who I really am, towards anyone.
Am I destroyed? No. Just a life of constant directions and experiments. That is how I find myself following the tides. As though to run away but the soul is just breaking free of those choke holds. All the simple bits of life seem so tedious.
And so many people are misinformed about who I am. They judge. They lie. And what does that do to me? I just pray. I hope that the reality opens freely. Even in the toughest of times all I can do is be patient. And when so many people just want to criticize me for doing or being all that I can be, I just hold my head up. Stoic.
Funny how that can be a bane of an existence or a match lit to form a thunderbolt. Not many would call me stoic but the would surely call me hardheaded or stubborn. I have even been related as cold, insensitive. Ah ha as though the observation was only skin deep. The levels never breached over the truth. And what is the truth, you wonder?
The real me is sensible, real, idealistic and perhaps mundane. Not an ounce of spontaneous inside of me. Sure the random left or right turn can be given but still the objective is the car ride. Such the idea of no plans is a bit of hesitation on my part. I must plan. As I look across all the possibilities, but listen to the gut before the mind. Even in the aspect of all the research I have done. The gut, the heart, the emotion outweighs all statistics.
Unfortunately that is me.
Oh and the passion. What I would like to portray is that I am, me alone, passionate about art and particular parts of art. As well of the view of life - animals, people, emotions, nature. Yes life is what I seek. Always in pursuit of the light.
And when you see me drowning please pick me up. Yes I drown in peoples' lives. I hear everything about them. And when I involve myself in their lives, I will break. I will fade from the light I am. I will fail to be to me. All so that I can help them. That is who I am.
To dig deeper, I do become cold. Once I see their truth, bitter as it can be, I strive to give them ALL of my light just so they can be beautiful. I even am willing to die or be blamed for things that are not part of me, just to help.
And when I walk away, give up, it is because I have given all of me. I have given the very last fiber of my light. Unable to grasp even a tiny speck of the glitter, I become black. And this is when all start to ravage me with my insensitivity. This is where people grab me and shout that I am not listening.
Yet, who was listening to my light leave? Who?
As I soak into what is left of me, I begin to shake off the shackles. Allowing myself a moment to cry. And yes I cry hard. Unable to let anyone understand that I have been resolute.
Then I find my way back. Stepping away, hoping that the work I did was not in vain. That my involvement, helped. That even the scars I carry are not seen. I don't even look back after I gave my trust. I just hope the best.
And to this day I keep hoping for the best. Learning that life is rekindling me with the brightest light I can attain. Each step, each moment brings me here. And as I dream big, I cry a little. Releasing the tension that I just cannot be the help for everyone.
Some just need to know I loved. I trusted and I did truly care. And now I am finding what my help can be done for me. One day I will be engulfed in a shine, again. I look forward to it.
Am I destroyed? No. Just a life of constant directions and experiments. That is how I find myself following the tides. As though to run away but the soul is just breaking free of those choke holds. All the simple bits of life seem so tedious.
And so many people are misinformed about who I am. They judge. They lie. And what does that do to me? I just pray. I hope that the reality opens freely. Even in the toughest of times all I can do is be patient. And when so many people just want to criticize me for doing or being all that I can be, I just hold my head up. Stoic.
Funny how that can be a bane of an existence or a match lit to form a thunderbolt. Not many would call me stoic but the would surely call me hardheaded or stubborn. I have even been related as cold, insensitive. Ah ha as though the observation was only skin deep. The levels never breached over the truth. And what is the truth, you wonder?
The real me is sensible, real, idealistic and perhaps mundane. Not an ounce of spontaneous inside of me. Sure the random left or right turn can be given but still the objective is the car ride. Such the idea of no plans is a bit of hesitation on my part. I must plan. As I look across all the possibilities, but listen to the gut before the mind. Even in the aspect of all the research I have done. The gut, the heart, the emotion outweighs all statistics.
Unfortunately that is me.
Oh and the passion. What I would like to portray is that I am, me alone, passionate about art and particular parts of art. As well of the view of life - animals, people, emotions, nature. Yes life is what I seek. Always in pursuit of the light.
And when you see me drowning please pick me up. Yes I drown in peoples' lives. I hear everything about them. And when I involve myself in their lives, I will break. I will fade from the light I am. I will fail to be to me. All so that I can help them. That is who I am.
To dig deeper, I do become cold. Once I see their truth, bitter as it can be, I strive to give them ALL of my light just so they can be beautiful. I even am willing to die or be blamed for things that are not part of me, just to help.
And when I walk away, give up, it is because I have given all of me. I have given the very last fiber of my light. Unable to grasp even a tiny speck of the glitter, I become black. And this is when all start to ravage me with my insensitivity. This is where people grab me and shout that I am not listening.
Yet, who was listening to my light leave? Who?
As I soak into what is left of me, I begin to shake off the shackles. Allowing myself a moment to cry. And yes I cry hard. Unable to let anyone understand that I have been resolute.
Then I find my way back. Stepping away, hoping that the work I did was not in vain. That my involvement, helped. That even the scars I carry are not seen. I don't even look back after I gave my trust. I just hope the best.
And to this day I keep hoping for the best. Learning that life is rekindling me with the brightest light I can attain. Each step, each moment brings me here. And as I dream big, I cry a little. Releasing the tension that I just cannot be the help for everyone.
Some just need to know I loved. I trusted and I did truly care. And now I am finding what my help can be done for me. One day I will be engulfed in a shine, again. I look forward to it.
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