Looking for embrace...

As I'm slowly coming back to life, I treat myself to one last escape before the next brawl. As it has been proven eternally still, my journey is not at all linear, but spans across several dimensions. There's the one in my mind that I navigate every single second, and then there are those visible to the outside world - those who get to be judged and analysed and are up for subjective interpretation. I'm not very fond of those, because I've yet to master the subtle nature of accepting that sometimes, heck, most of the time our truth can be in complete misalignment with people we felt are our soul mates, whatever that might even mean. I guess my haunted dreams are yet to be banished, and I still have many miles to go before I can truly claim that I've grown up. But even transcendence sometimes has to wait, for life is too beautiful to simply let slip by, so away we go ... away we fly.

All his haunted dreams...

I'm sending you my love...

Times that I've seen you lose your way,

you're not in control and you won't be told.

All I can do to keep you safe, is hold you close,

hold you close til you can breathe on your own.

Everyone keeps a darker place

to lose control, you're not alone.

And when you come looking for embrace,

I know your soul; I'll be your home,

til you can breathe on your own.

Only miss the sun when it starts to snow...

Life is a series of choices. You make decisions, and they lead you down a path to countless more, each connected to the other, like interwoven metal forming into a cohesive chain, which can either be used to bind oneself, to trap others, or simply stand as a reminder of how easily we can forget to love ourselves. Waiting hurts. Forgetting hurts. But not knowing which turn to take can sometimes be the most painful thing in the world. Because the hardest part about the road not taken is that you never know where it might have led. The problem, simply put, is that we cannot choose everything simultaneously. So we live in danger of becoming paralysed by indecision, terrified that every choice might be the wrong choice. The wrong path. The wrong life.

There must be a few times in ones journey when you stand at a precipice of a decision. When you know there will forever be a Before and an After. He knew there would be no turning back if he designated this moment as his own prime meridian from which everything else would be measured. So as he saw himself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because he couldn't make up his mind which of the figs he should choose, he realised that life is passing him by. He wanted each and every one of them, but choosing meant losing all the rest, and, as time passed, still unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at his feet. Forever lost, and never seen again.

Stone heart, machine gun...

My million miles...

The second he feels he can take a breath, he lunges towards the ocean in hopes that it will replenish his faltering resolve and give him strength for the battles ahead. He will most surely spill blood, and there is nothing he can do to avoid being trampled and run into the ground. But he won't let something as trivial as fear stop him. Because it is the possibility that keeps him going, and though you may call him a dreamer or a fool or any other thing, he believes that anything is possible. And when he despairs and wallows in thoughts of disbelief, he remembers that all through history the way of truth and love have always won. That his life has always needed time to make sense, and rarely offered answers in the thick of it. There have been tears and agony, and for a time, they seemed invincible, but in the end, they were always defeated. Think about it - always.

Going fucking crazy...

I took a bus to China town...

I've been trying to do it right,

I've been living a lonely life.

I've been sleeping here instead,

I've been sleeping in my bed,

sleeping in my bed ...

So show me family,

and all the blood that I will bleed.

I don't know where I belong.

I don't know where I went wrong,

but at least I can write a song.

One loss at a time...

In about a week I shall come here and tell you a story of failure. I shall share with you how I got myself in over my head and how I stumbled beneath the pressure of juggling every ball thrown my way. But it will not be a sad story, yet a triumphant one. A story where I will learn the value of making mistakes, the value of failure, and the value of climbing out of the gutter. Until then I shall keep silent. Only whispering about circumstances currently drowning my existence. I will kneel and succumb to the inevitable realisation that I have reached too far, and demanded more than I'll ever be able to get. But do not cry or worry, for as you know better than anyone, I, or better yet, we have survived so much worse, and the thought of what we still have to endure, makes me laugh at the sense of despair.

The war in his mind is finally won...

As you locked eyes, and the world felt a tremble, he wondered if perhaps this was the happiest he's ever been. He feels so at ease, as if life had lifted its encumbrance and finally allowed him to take his first breath. Laughter envelops even the mundane, and he catches himself wishing his days wouldn't end - that he'd be able to live through them as one singular entity, engorged within an endless stream of repeated existence. He is cautions though, and above all grateful, for he knows that as everything, even this sense of serenity is fleeting. Probably lasting only long enough to inflict a greater wound down the line, a lesson one must learn in order to move forward. Yet realising this, must not deter you from enjoying it while it lasts. You must nurture it. Feed it with the willpower to maintain itself, despite the world trying its earnest to tear it apart. Fight for it. Demand it. Shout out its name, then ... let go.

Here's to us...

I can't believe that still, even to this day, I can be knocked off my feet by the sheer realisation that the life around me has somehow completely changed without me noticing. I even look different as I allow myself to uninhibitedly gaze into the mirror. I guess our journey has a way of spinning us around, disorientating and making us dizzy, so when we finally regain our footing, we're standing at the precipice of a cliff, overlooking a vast mountain valley and an endless river towards the sky. I think I'll never get used to how my path can be full of gloom and despair in one moment, then in the next it can be filled with countless possibility. How in one breath I can be surrounded with friends, and as I exhale, I am completely alone once more, slowly realising that all of you have moved on. Moved on for good.

Love like yours can never last, because of its depth it is impossible to dig yourself out its basin. You try to climb its ledges - leaping from one end to the other - hoping to find solid ground, yet time after time you lose your grip and come stumbling down to the core of its pit. There is no way out, except to dig even lower, clawing your way through it, and coming out the other side. Then as your hand reaches over the last layer of dirt and dust, it is instantly enveloped by the warmth of the sun. You drag the rest of your body and soul towards the surface, finding yourself on an island amid paradise. The pit, it seems, was never your true home in the first place. Just a damp, dreadful illusion of everything you ever thought you wanted. You stumble towards a waterfall and let its waters wash away the pain, all the while thinking: I did it. I survived. I survived you.

It's time to find my way back home...

Another man dies...

Love called and asked about us, 

said she'd wondered where we'd gone.

She's been lonely without us,

she wants us to come back home.

Don't you miss the way it used to be for you and me? 

Won't you please ... answer her call with me and say: 

hey love we're on the way!

Cake by the ocean...

Hey life, we're on the way...

The moment you realise that the person you cared for has nothing intellectually or spiritually to offer you, but a headache. The moment you realise God had greater plans for you that don’t involve crying at night. The moment you live your dreams, not because of what it will prove or get you, but because that is all you want to do. People’s opinions don’t matter. The moment you realise that no one is your enemy, except yourself. The moment you realise that you can have everything you want in life. However, it takes timing, the right heart, the right actions, the right passion and a willingness to risk it all. If it is not yours, it is because you really didn't want it, need it or something greater than yourself prevented it. The moment you realise that happiness was never about getting a person. They are only a helpmate towards achieving your life mission. The moment you believe that love is not about losing or winning. It is just a few moments in time, followed by an eternity of situations to grow from. The moment you realise that you were always the right person. That moment? That moment is now.

Broken record on repeat...

Simply ... I need to shut the hell up. I've been talking and blabbering like only a fool can about everything and everyone that I've lost grasp of what's actually going on in my head. I think I did it in order to be less afraid of the world around me - how it suddenly morphed and changed its trajectory - leaving me disorientated and stumbling on the ground. It's strange how the people I used to love, are now the people I barely know and how I get to reacquaint myself with them without the burden of false promise. I've buried my head into the ground, only to find that I'm gazing upside down at myself, clearly evident that my quirkiness won't get me out of this one. If I want to move forward, I have to demand it - too long have I given myself a pass, just to avoid facing that I might have been wrong about a lot of things, too many to count, too many to bear. It's okay to say it: I was wrong, and that's quite all right with me.