our lives are our thoughts. nothing more. nothing in this world is good or bad or happy or sad or beautiful or true unless we make it so. we can rule our lives or let them rule us. getting swept away in a tidal wave of emotion is something we CHOOSE. there are events that shape us, push us in one direction or another, but we are always in control. even when the last shred of hope has left us, we can move forward. it takes courage, it takes time, it takes action. but it can be done.

i have felt detached before. this is different. i am different now. that hour changed my life in ways i am yet to understand or even become aware of. i can't go back. the most i can hope for now is the green light, the permission to move forward and take these steps. i live in fear. it is surrounding. pervasive. it seeps into every moment and every joy in my life. i must learn how to live with it, or banish it for good. but i won't give up yet. there is still hope.

i hope you have learned from that hour also. otherwise it was a waste of pain and strength and nerve.

Things i am grateful for today
• A random text from a friend I thought i’d never hear from again
• The rain slashing against my window as i doze
• My parents and their endless energy and enthusiasm for life
• My teddy bear
• Having the money and the time to make gifts for the people i love

I listen to the wind
to the wind of my soul
Where I'll end up well I think,
only God really knows
I've sat upon the setting sun
But never, never never never
I never wanted water once
No, never, never, never


I listen to my words but
they fall far below
I let my music take me where
my heart wants to go
I swam upon the devil's lake
But never, never never never
I'll never make the same mistake
No, never, never, never

The whole is more than the sum of its parts – Gestalt


You and I, we do not exist.


Once, we held summer in our hands, and washed pain away in the ocean like it was dust. The golden light all around us came from us and through us, was part of us, and greater than us all at the same time. You existed to me then. You were, infact, more than you are now. I made you more. And you made me more. Your words still echo sometimes, unexpectedly. The things that we spoke of, the lessons I learned from you, are still here. We have run from each other, but we have left so much scattered around us. The park where we sat and spoke of our greatness, our futures, is still here. The words that we left hanging in the air – I can feel them when i brush my hands across the long grass on a warm summer evening, or drive past trying to ignore the haunting stillness of the place. I felt powerful then. The illusions of security that we create for ourselves are powerful. You were more than you are now. You made me more.

Reprocessed

All my words have been written before. These ideas that seem so fresh and new in the morning light, have been thought of and told and retold. Is there such thing as original thought anymore?

the light in the sky

There are so many things that can create hope. A rush of ocean air slapping your face. The touch of your baby cousin's hand in yours. A smile. Any smile. Waking up. Going to sleep. Being able to forget, or remember, or reach out, or find silence. Any of these things can bring the heart out of the darkness, give it purpose, give it life. When panic takes me, and I feel my breath tight in my chest, none of these things come to mind. Only your voice, and your words, and your face. They are all I can see, and the life I have lived so far doesn't seem enough.

Do you see me?
Does anyone see me?
Do I see me?

I wish that someday, I can be someone's hope, as you are mine.