Words, words, and more words.
Finally a place where words can be spoken, yet never found, has opened itself to me. Many a day I've wished these words would fall upon something besides the ground or at least become free. Finally freed from the tyranny and judgement of the human mind I've found to me my own. It's killed everything. So many thoughts, words, feelings, actions, hopes, desires, wants have been trampled on the ground like a rose thrown at the feet of an enemy. That enemy is me, and that rose is everything beautiful I once loved. Pessimism is the cancer, the cure, the judge, the jury, the mother and the father. The beginning and the end. The first and last thing to come to mind. How can I act in such a way and still take myself seriously? At what point do you say, "I cant even believe the shit that's coming forth from my mouth, my mind?" Is there a way to turn off that faucet of negativity? Or can people bring forth the good in you to where you may actually starting seeing the light at the end? It cant be healthy to have two sides, so black, so white, and have everybody looking in seeing grey. There has to be more to it. Why wouldn't there be? "How lost are you?" they ask. "You'd be the one to know" is the proper and correct response. To have such a trust in other people, to love all you see, to want nothing more than to give those small, insignificant, pieces of yourself to somebody who could use it more than you could. That is the american dream. But what happens when those pieces are forgotten? Lost on the ground with everybody else's fragmented, broken lives. Nobody will pick up those pieces. Some find other broken pieces that they think their pieces can fit with. I see this too often, it creates a illusion of solidarity and peace while the one with the true eyes see how broken and shameful it really is. Why create a puzzle when nobody knows what the pieces look like? Don't force it. I know you will. Words, words, and more words.