The sun went down in our hometown...

Emotions, at least the ones I have been experiencing in the past couple of years, aren't covered by single words. I don't believe in "sadness," "joy," or "regret." It just seems like such a banal oversimplification of what is a plethora of deeply complex sensations. I'd like to have at my disposal complicated hybrids, train-car constructions like, say, "the happiness that attends disaster." Or: "the disappointment of seeing a fantasy come to fruition." I'd like to show how "limitations of mortality brought on by aging family members" connects with "the hatred of mirrors that began as I turned thirty." I'd like to have a word for "the sadness inspired by seeing my friends fail" as well as for "the excitement of having a whiskey after a long week." I've never had the right words to describe my life, and now that I've entered a new chapter, I need them more than ever.

We keep shining, soul to soul...

Moonlight, it's my starlight...

It almost doesn't seem like we're living a life, but more like we're travelling on a train with the destination unknown. One moment you're sitting on a seat near the window looking outside, imagining how things are there, how it must feel to live in the houses that you pass by. And when you're busy noticing, the world around you dissipates, as if it never truly existed. You miss out on some passengers who exited the train somewhere midway, then others you examine with beastly vigor. They peak your interest and imagination. You create a story about their lives, and how it could be interwoven with yours. But sooner or later their stop comes, and then you never see them again. And once we die, all those scenarios die with us. Does anything then ever truly endure?

You can never match my grind...

Falling out, in a drought,

no flow, rain wasn't pouring down.

See, that pain was all around.

See, my mode was kinda lounged.

Didn't know which-which way to turn,

flow was cool but I still felt burnt.

Energy up, you can feel my surge

I'ma destroy everything like this purge.

Not only here to sin...

As real as it gets...

I think I am really bad at being compassionate. Or least expressing this complex emotion. The thing is, compassion asks us to go where it hurts, to enter into the places of pain, to share in brokenness, fear, confusion, and anguish. Compassion challenges us to cry out with those in misery, to mourn with those who are lonely, to weep with those in tears. And placing myself on those levels is extremely triggering for me, because long ago I swore I would never allow myself to fall again so far. Does that mean I am heartless? Not really human at all? 

You were not meant to stay in hell and follow false belief systems. You were bound for greatness. For something not of this world. You were born to help others by leading them across wasteland deserts and roaring oceans. Rise up and be the light home. You were given the gift to see the truth. And even though the universe will have an army of people that will try and oppose you and make you feel alone, you have the power to overcome them. Your family in the sky stands beside you now. They are your strength and as countless as the stars. It is time to let go.

Your love has set me free...

Leave the door open...

I don't know that we are actually human at this point, those of us who are like most of us, who grew up with TV and movies and now the internet. If we are betrayed, we know the words to say; when a loved one dies, we how to react. If we want to play the stud or the smart-ass or the fool, we already know the words. We are all working from the same dog-eared script. It's a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of personality traits selected from an endless automat of characters. It has gotten to the point where it seems like nothing matters, because I'm not a real person and neither is anyone else. I would do anything to feel real again.

The music that I love...

Yeah I will go,

screaming out my pain into the night,

do what I like,

I'll lose control.

Now nothing's out of reach,

I'm stronger now I'm free,

I'm who I wanna be,

higher, higher.

It gets me higher...

As much as we try or like to believe, we can't see the future. Which means that there's no such thing as a perfect choice. Down the line, someone is going to get hurt. People you care for will pass away and you will be left wanting and alone. Something is going to end up less than ideal no matter what you choose. You will stumble and fall and often times feel as if you have nothing left to give. It's impossible to make the right choice because there is no right choice, ever. There's no wrong choices either. You just do the best you can with what's in front of you. You try to cause the least pain you can and you understand that the rest is out of your control. You know this.

Now nothing's out of reach...

As with any story worth telling, it was, in the end, a tragic one. What do we say of those who burn too brightly? Do we shield our eyes or turn our heads when the glare makes us uncomfortable? No, we cannot. We must watch the explosion without movement or blinking, all the way through the afterglow. Take with us the memory of what once was. In all its glory and intensity.

The truth can have a funny way of revealing itself. One would like to think, in all its undeniable power, it would always be obvious. Either golden, a glorious beam that parts the clouds and lights the way, or totally hideous, a nasty pit that opens up in the earth, completely dark save the thyroid eyes and teeth of those terrible monsters that reside there. But it can be sneakier than these. It can be pernicious. It can creep in like smoke, slowly but unwavering, until all that’s left is that blackness that one would expect in the pit, but instead of the monsters, it’s the thing itself that begins to kill you, only from the inside out.

I run the days into the night...

He wants to face the uncertainty of the future with curiosity and optimism. With a belief that problems can be solved, differences resolved. He wants to be confident, and not be blackened by fear, and superstition. He doesn't want to be scared that something must, surely, go wrong, if he were this happy, with himself and the people around him. There has already been come collateral damage - people left behind because happiness was too much to bear. He wonders what else he might have to let go of. What else might be taken away. No … he will no longer succumb to the power of the jinx. He can shape his life like a cake mixture reaching the corners of the tin as it swells and bakes. And then he can eat it too.

Searching for that feeling...

 

Twisted reality, hopeless insanity...

I was driving far away, out of control.

Almost made it to Heaven,

it was closer than you know.

Playing with the enemy,

gambling with my soul.

It's so hard to say no

when you're dancing with the devil.

Days we save as souvenirs...

Carry away my dead leaves...

If I could forgive, it meant I was a person who could take responsibility for the path I had chosen for myself, and all the consequences that accompanied that choice. And it gave me the simple but powerful satisfaction of extending a kindness to another in a tough spot. We have to be able to let go. We don't have to like this person anymore, we don't have to be friends with them, we don't have to reply to their texts, but we have to forgive them, to overlook, to try to forget. Because if we don't we are tying rocks to our feet, too much for our wings to carry. To heavy to reach the stars.