Hard fought hallelujah...

Dovolj je bilo. 

Dovolj.

His mind has too wild of an imagination. It's an expert at racing over worries about the future or recycling resentments from the past, making it ill-equipped to handle the challenges of the moment. His thoughts get stuck in a vortex of possibilities; what could happen if that happens when he does this, and they respond with that? An endless conjuration of scenarios that hinder his ability to be in the present. He has so much still to learn when it comes to facing obstacles. He's been spoiled by the leniency of his life. Now he has to find a way out of the storm.

No one noticed...

Suddenly, it seemed to me that I looked back from a great distance on the family around, the smiles and the conversations, the whole sunny, sad, funny, wonderful day, and all the days that we had spent here together. What was I going to do when such days came no more? There could not be many, for we were a family growing old. And how would I learn to live without these people? I who needed them so little and so much at the same time. There will come a time when the people at this table wither away, and I won't have any family left. What shall I do then?

Always thought I was someone...

And so I had a late arrival...

Know it seems so quick and easy,

sentimentally assumed,

walking parallels.

To all the days we were together,

to all the time we played a part

in each other's lives,

heart to heart.

Save me from this empty fight...

There's more to come...

I am just a man, doing my best to be a person of value. And every once in a while, nowadays more often than not, I fuck up the moment I'm in. And I'm trying to let myself be imperfect, allowing my imperfections to drive me to improve. I'll try to be a fairer judge going forward. And be the owner of my own intentions. Even though I'm sure I'll still fall short in stopping myself from getting triggered. Love and acceptance despite ongoing and glaring imperfection is all I've ever tried to attain with this thing that is not blog. For me. For you. For everyone. And I don't think I'll ever stop.

Then he sat very still with his hands on his knees, his shaggy head against the bricks, restored to patience and a look of tried inviolate sanctity, the faded green eyes looking out down the row of cages, a forest of sweating iron dowels, forms of men standing or huddled upon their pallets, and feeling the circle of years closing, the final increment of the curve returning him again to the inchoate, the prismatic flux of sound and color wherein he had drifted once before and now beyond the world of men.

At your altar, I will pray...

Oh, fear, my dear friend. How close we've become in recent months. Fear, that which kills my dreams. Fear, that which destroys my ambitions. Fear, that which kills my initiatives. You hold me captive within my comfort zone, not allowing me to stretch beyond your wall to go fulfill my potential. Leaving me shellshocked from recent trauma, being unable to get through even the most mundane of days. If I didn't see the last attack, then the only way forward, is to treat everything like an attack. That's how I'll always be prepared. That's how I'll never be weak again.

Reminds me of a home far away...

All the way...

We all have triggers. And as as much as I love you, you cannot possibly know exactly the words I need to hear, the words I don't want to hear, and the way I like to be touched. And how strange that we expect these things of each other. It's because I've been raised to want fairy tales. For a flawless savior to rescue me. But the savior isn't flawless and the savior is not coming. The savior is me, and I'm still learnings. Forget perfect. Forget flawless. And start speaking your truth. Start speaking what you want and how you want it. And start asking and listening, really listening, to what the people around you say. Maybe, then, we will stop abandoning and hurting each other. Maybe, then, there's hope for us.

I'll be with you from dusk until dawn...

Not trying be indie,

not trying be cool,

just trying be in this.

Tell me how you choose,

can you feel where the wind is,

can you feel it through,

all of the windows,

inside this room.

I'm going to stand up...

Back and forth like a swinging door...

I'm starting to understand that secretly attempting to be liked by everyone has been a slow, but steady downturn of my life. Trying to be someone that people admire or feel an attraction towards or even envy, has led me to a crossroad that I cannot pass. I am stuck unless I profoundly change. On the spot, in front of everyone. Undergoing the agony and defeat of a lifetime. Thinking about all the balls I was trying to juggle that I've dropped, and now the cogs are turning toward total apathy toward it all, everything and all I can think about is that I am a shell of a human being. I'm a pushover. I am to blame.

I'm not sure about all the particulars that led to this moment. Do I believe life is a series of dots to be connected, that I was always meant to be stranded at this very spot? Or that perhaps I can't outrun destiny and that all roads lead to truth and coincidence is a lie to distract me? But I guess the reason I was in this place no longer mattered. The harsh reality stared me in the face and demanded an immediate decision. Choose a random path, knowing it will one day lead me back to this very crossing or stay here until I am utterly undone? Then somehow gather the pieces and become someone who can forge a path beyond who he was, who he failed to be? A path towards someone who would never need to make this choice again.

Shatter me with your touch...

I'm a little crazy...

Just in case...

Triggers are like little psychic explosions that crash through avoidance and bring the dissociated, avoided trauma suddenly, unexpectedly, back into consciousness. The persistent sense of heartbreak and gut-wrench greet me like old friends, the physical sensations become intolerable and it makes me want to do anything to make those feelings disappear. I try to maintain a sense of normality until I no longer can. That, my friends, is called surviving. Not healing. I know I will never become whole again. But that means that if I make it to tomorrow, I am a survivor. 

Down we go...

Oh, father, tell me,

do we get what we deserve?

You let your feet run wild,

time has come as we all fall, 

do you dare to look him right in the eyes?