(no subject)
So much has happened recently. Stuff that probably should mean a great deal to me.
November, December then 2006.
It's a been shot after shot of stuff worth living for. Things I've thoroughly relished as well as survived.
And so it pretty much came as a surprise to me that each time I set about penning it all down into this trusty journal, I just couldn't grasp the words. Maybe it simply isn't easy to take a verbal snapshot of my life at this point of time. Or maybe the heart just isn't ready to open. No matter how I push, there just isn't a way to get an answer out of myself.
Everything has been significant, every fleeting breath. Significant because of irreversibility and intensity. Beyond that, I can't pinpoint any further. Yet this (this) still remains.
About a half a week ago, I decided to let go of this journal. Partly because this journal, originally the breadcrumbs to my past, maintained (kinda) to clue myself in on where I've come from/gotten to, no longer serves it's purpose. For now at least, I'm pretty much lost at sea. Breadcrumbs my arse.
And partly because I've forgotten how to simply let go, to live without feeling like I've lost a moment forever when I cannot steal a photograph or paragraph of it.
This journal won't be much of a read, indefinitely.
November, December then 2006.
It's a been shot after shot of stuff worth living for. Things I've thoroughly relished as well as survived.
And so it pretty much came as a surprise to me that each time I set about penning it all down into this trusty journal, I just couldn't grasp the words. Maybe it simply isn't easy to take a verbal snapshot of my life at this point of time. Or maybe the heart just isn't ready to open. No matter how I push, there just isn't a way to get an answer out of myself.
Everything has been significant, every fleeting breath. Significant because of irreversibility and intensity. Beyond that, I can't pinpoint any further. Yet this (this) still remains.
About a half a week ago, I decided to let go of this journal. Partly because this journal, originally the breadcrumbs to my past, maintained (kinda) to clue myself in on where I've come from/gotten to, no longer serves it's purpose. For now at least, I'm pretty much lost at sea. Breadcrumbs my arse.
And partly because I've forgotten how to simply let go, to live without feeling like I've lost a moment forever when I cannot steal a photograph or paragraph of it.
This journal won't be much of a read, indefinitely.