lettng go

Confessions in Silence

Has it nearly been an entire year since I’ve written to you? I’d say time flies, but as years go this one seemed longer than most.

*gentle chuckle*

In some ways, I feel as though I’ve been selfish. Primarily because most of what of what’s written here has been for me. All the things I needed to say to myself I’ve shared with you. Let’s be clear, I know very little about anything significant for the world in general, rather the knowledge I’ve gained only truly applies to my particular journey. I write this because it’s true, but also no one solution can solve every problem. In my arrogance, I attempted to relate the micro of one journey to the macro of everyone’s journeys. For that, I must ask your forgiveness.

Some of you have been so dear to me,  the best of humanity. Others have taught me amazing lessons about who I thought I was or wanted to be, and you deserve my thanks as well.

I’ve learned there’s a difference between helping someone and simply supporting them. My previous course was to do as much as possible to “lighten the load” for other people. In the process, I stole their journeys by not trusting them to manage situations on their own. It also exhausted me because I tried to control circumstances that weren’t mine to control. The result – I screwed a lot of things up and take total responsibility for my actions.

By the way, I’m still working on the jumping in to rescue part.

I’ve learned that it’s not my job to live up to anyone’s expectations, and it’s not anybody’s job to live up to mine. Whoa. Talk about a mind-blowing moment. It happened when someone close to me was making demands about what they thought I should be doing. I said, “It’s not my job to live up to your expectations,” and the line went silent for a moment, then everything changed in the conversation. You see, my expectations for myself are unreasonably high. So much so, that I’ve spent a lifetime beating myself into the ground for not meeting them. This, of course, bleeds out on occasion to other people, until reality slaps me a few times, and I back down. That didn’t stop me from imposing mine and everyone else’s demands on myself, then one day I couldn’t, just simply couldn’t keep going. Mentally exhausted, emotionally strung-out, and physically incapable, I stopped, which may actually be the very first wise thing I’ve ever done.

Of course, I’m still working on that part too.

I’ve learned that my compulsive obsessive need to prove that I’m valuable to people ends in unfulfilled promises and allowing people to take far more than I have to give. The blame for this behavior lies squarely on my shoulders. With no boundaries and far too many “sure, I can do that” conversations, I’m quite effective at painting myself into a tight corner, all because I can’t muster the word no. I ask for little to nothing in return, hoping they’ll see I’m worth giving back to, but not expecting I’m worthy enough to receive anything at all. This isn’t some deep rooted thing from childhood or something my parents did or anything the world has ever said to me. It’s a fault within myself that says if something is easy for me to do, and I can push everything aside to make the time (even when I can’t) I should do it, and maybe, just maybe someone will pat me on the head like a fluffy little puppy dog and tell me I’m a good girl. The sick thing – they do. I mean, like sometimes it’s embarrassing how much they do, but something inside says, “if you knew me like I do, you’d know you’re wrong, so please stop.”

That lesson made me withdraw from the world for a time, mainly out of embarrassment. Really, I couldn’t face what I didn’t complete and couldn’t stand up for myself when people accused me of things I hadn’t done because I felt guilty about everything else. Still, I’m completely responsible for every yes, every incomplete commitment, and every time I tried to “help” even when I couldn’t do it or shouldn’t have been involved. The compulsive obsessive need for validation can be an unrelenting bitch of a thing to conquer, but I’m working on it.

To end this post, I suppose I should say this is my confession. So often people, including perfect strangers, seem to confess everything to me. It’s almost crazy compulsive. I know things about people I shouldn’t, some of it I just try to forget because, these secrets about them, never need to be known. And maybe what I’ve  told you today didn’t need to be written, but then again I heard somewhere that confession is good for the soul.

*quiet laugh*

Or maybe I’m finally giving myself permission to be an imperfect, ordinary, everyday human being.

 

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Categories: lettng go, the fear that binds us, the universes we create

A Promise of Spring

000 winter road

 

Winter’s long hand is blanketing the world outside my door. The crystalline white swirls down, reaching over everything to hide color and light. Even the busy road vanished, now a silent empty reminder of travelers I’ve never met.

Somewhere in the distance soft light promises to break the spell, but I know it’s simply an illusion — my personal mirage in an entirely new desert.

On days like these the only sound is her laughter. Some video or other amuses her twelve year old mind into a fit of temporary joy, and I’m thankful to hear something other than my own thoughts. She’ll be here for a handful of years yet. Experience has taught me they’ll go fast, too fast, then she’ll tackle the world outside our door with fire and passion. Though I’ll miss her laughter desperately, I won’t hold her back, even if I could. She deserves a shot at making this life everything or anything her brilliant mind can imagine.

I see the stinging loneliness ahead, but don’t weep. In this weather, my tears would freeze before hitting the ground, and the beauty of this place inspires more quiet smiles than sorrow.

The only thing left is to wait and wonder what comes next, though all I see is the snow. No brilliant images of a house full of laughter. No fiery dreams of a hopeless romantic. No illusions of life other than the gentle cold of winter.

And in this I find peace.

The last few years have been brutal, and my passion for tasting life wanes with each passing day. Less of a retreat, more of a slow slipping into concrete reality. In the hollow left behind, no sound or pain exists, not even a whisper. And, in most ways, I grateful to finally understand there is nothing more than walls, laughter, and crystalline water.

Outside the world is still and cold, waiting for the promise of spring. Inside, it’s warm and laughter breaks the din of an otherwise motionless day.

Somewhere beyond my view things are changing, and I can’t help but smile with somewhat giddy anticipation. Perhaps I wait for spring as well.  Perhaps this dormant hibernation is simply a time to reorganize priorities and put a too long past to rest in the hard ground. Whatever the reasons, this isolation suits me for now, so I have to believe its purpose is yet to be revealed.

And in this I find hope.

Winter’s long hand will rest soon enough. For now, I cherish quiet days and the giggling of a not-so-little redheaded child.

Categories: breaking illusions, caves, Choice, found, hope, innocence, lettng go, the next step, what once was | Tags: , , , | 1 Comment

So Much Left to Learn & Where to Start

origami-heart-2

I had an interesting conversation with my daughter, Bug, tonight. Thought I’d share it.

“It’s good to see you smiling again,” Bug said. “I haven’t seen you that sad ever, even when you and dad broke up.”

I smiled. “Well, I’d forgotten something very important that I knew when your dad and I decided we were better as friends.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“Sometimes things don’t work out, but no matter what happens we should always do things with love. Our hearts don’t stop loving people just because they’re not part of our lives.”

“But what if they’re mean? Like say they tell everyone bad stuff about you and tease you. And what if they get really mad and yell at you?”

“Well, do you stop loving me when I get upset?”

“No, but you don’t yell at me. You just say you’re disappointed because you know I can make better choices.”

Yeah, I kinda giggled inside, then said, “Bug Juice, people are going to get mad. Not everyone is meant to be with everyone else. Sometimes life can be complicated, but I won’t stop loving them because we don’t agree on something or because they aren’t part of my life.”

“So if we got in a fight and say I ran away to an island with crazy monsters that eat kids, but decided to come home because I don’t like monsters to gobble me up, would you still love me Hug Much when I came back?”

“Yeppers,” I said. “I’d still love you Hug Much.”

“Would you give me cake when I came back?”

“Nope.”

“But you said you’d still love me.”

“Yep, but if you run away, then no cake. House rules.”

“We need new rules,” Bug said, returning to her computer game.

***

My paradigm had already begun shifting earlier this week. This conversation shifted it for good. P.S. it’s truly amazing how much children actually see.

In all the craziness of the past few weeks, I’d forgotten something very important —

Everything must be done with love and kindness.

 

This last couple of years has been some kind of growing experience. I’ve had amazing teachers who opened my eyes to the scope of fullness and lack. They’ve provided brilliant contrast to show me what I absolutely want from this life and the lessons I have yet to learn. And whoa, do I have so much more left to learn — about people, about writing, about manifesting, about crafting life.

This latest experience brought far more joy than anything else. I met some incredible people and fell in love, neither are something I will soon forget. But the biggest lesson of all is approach everyone with love because we’re all fighting internal battles no one else will see.

The major shift for me came when I let go of hurt and pain to see the situation for what it was, when I realized nothing ultimately had to do directly with me except the things I took on as mine and my actions. More over, the things I was trying to take on weren’t mine to carry.

There’s a saying about relationships that goes something like this…

“Your joys are doubled because happiness of one is happiness of the other. Your burdens are halved since when we share them we divide the load.”

 

 

In a partnership, we have to be able to recognize what things we can share and what belongs to the other to carry. And there are definitely things we aren’t meant lift, but that doesn’t mean we can’t support them while they’re dealing with it.

Ultimately, my goal was to build a life with an incredible man, to share our joys and ease our burdens together. Of course, I skillfully ignored the fact he was already living the life he wanted, and my contribution was as a temporary escape, a vacation spot. And I did thoroughly enjoy the breaks and have good memories to take with me.

I’ll continue to love him because our hearts don’t stop loving people, but  being with him taught me something else.

I want more.

To craft a life, share joys and burdens, grow together, live together, love together; experience the fullness of life in all its peace and, sometimes, chaos. To craft a life well-lived… together. Because we learn so much more looking through the eyes of another than we’ll ever learn looking through our own.

Categories: breaking illusions, Choice, lettng go, love, memories, relationships, self reflection, taking risks | Tags: , , | 2 Comments

The Illusion of Separation

 

00 holding hands

 

 

Illusions are easy to live in, especially for an optimist. And the world desperately conspires to give them breath with the idea we can all get along. Why not? We’re all the same… on the inside.

Well, that’s an illusion too, isn’t it?

Society is hell bent on creating separation. It gives people another illusion – that of power. Countries and social circles hunger for it, and will use any means, be it hate or love, to control a little speck of the universe. They force people to defend their rights, defend their very character, even in the face of those who love them.

Twelve years ago, the country found a new enemy, but they didn’t stop at the faceless “terror” living thousands of miles away. Much like the Japanese American interment camps during WWII, our own citizens became the demons we fought. Suspicion, targeting, blackballing; all it becoming the norm, forcing otherwise innocent people to prove they were actually innocent. Guised as protection, the powers that be used this fire to enact several laws and create agencies to further tight their hold on the country, thus expanding their power.

McCarthyism in the early to mid 1950’s is yet another example. Many writers, directors, and actors as well as everyday citizens lost entire careers, entire families ripped apart because of finger pointing and rumor. It pitted neighbor squarely against neighbor in  a quest to prove personal innocence. Again, suspicion and fear became the norm and tool by which “order” and conformity was maintained.

But we’re more evolved now, right?

If society wasn’t hell bent on creating separation, I might say yes. But power and control are mighty tempting things. The lust for them lives in the eyes of society, and it will find the one perceived threat to its sovereignty,  then ban together and point fingers to divert attention from its end goal.

The concept of separation and the lust for power is a heavy theme in my novel, Ring Binder – The Binding of Twelve, because I believe books should be entertaining but also incorporate themes that break illusion.

Allison grew up in a small town plagued by rumors about her family. The peculiar behavior of her grandmother Shanley created the perfect target for a town that thrived on drama and separation. Of course, Allison didn’t help the situation by choosing not to follow social norms for the sake of getting along. She isolated herself from ridicule and sideways glances, adding to the tension. But the grab for social rankings and the separatist attitude of the majority of town’s residence seemed petty and childish at best.

When Allison ventured into the world of her people this dynamic was magnified. The ruling council of the Mutaní lusted for power and control, maintaining both by encouraging suspicion and unease. Again, the rules of their society served one purpose – separation. By preying on people’s fear of the Iska, soul feeding demons who hunted them, the council effectively manipulated the will and minds of the many to accomplish their end goal, which created a cycle of death killing entire generations.

This phenomenon isn’t limited to governments. It trickles down to infect social circles and even families. When we buy into the illusion of us versus them, when we gossip and spread rumors to defame another simply to maintain power and control over the people in our universe, then we become the monsters of separation. And while I still believe everyone, despite the individual and internal battles we fight, can find a way to get along, it’s difficult to tolerate energy in my universe that thrives on making people choose sides or creates division for the sake of maintaining power.

So what’s the alternative? I’m not sure.

How can we put an end to the illusion that we need to separate into camps? Hell, if I know.

My best option at the moment is respect people from a distance until we find common ground; until everyone realizes we have this one life, this one planet we share, and none of us will ever have power or control over it. At least, not for too long.

I leave you with the opening quote in Ring Binder from Samuel Lonary, shifter and Binder trainer.

“Longevity has given me the ability to look past the common struggles of life. I’ve seen power rise with the dawn only to be reclaimed by darkness. In the reach for control, the one constant is the moon. Pulling the tide with each orbit, the moon reaches into the hearts of men to touch them with power and insanity. For centuries, the Mutaní drew upon its light for ascension. We sought connection to the objects on a spiritual plane, but in this quest, the power corrupts. As our focus turned from the preservation of life to the sole saviors of humanity, the Mutaní forgot the lessons of history. All power is borrowed, even ours. Eventually, it too will set as the moon rises.”

 

 

Categories: freedom, lettng go, life, questions, self reflection, spirituality, the fear that binds us, the universes we create, themes, what once was, writing | Tags: , , | 1 Comment

How to Not Apologize for Being Me

00 GIRL-BLOWING-BUBBLES

 

Yesterday I posted this on Facebook:

“I won’t hide or change who I am to serve the whims of someone else. I won’t lie to hide someone else’s untruths, but I also won’t tell everyone everything just because they think they deserve to know. This is my life. I try to live it with kindness, directness, love, and wholly unapologetic. Though I’m not always good at it, I’m working hard to become better, the very best version of myself. And that’s good enough for me.”

Let’s break this bubble down.

 

Permission, perception, acceptance, extreme diplomacy, compromise to a fault, insecurity, fear, apologizing for who I am and what I want.

 

I’ve lived the better part of 40 years in a state of…

“Is it okay with you that I want to be happy? Does it make you uncomfortable when I do <insert dream, goal, passion>? Are you proud of me now? Do you still like me?”

Pathetic. Yeah, I’ll call like it is.

My point is I’ve lived my life hyper-anxiety ridden because I worried about everyone else’s happiness, lifting everyone else up, compromising my ideals and, sometimes, morals to be accepted and loved. I desperately wanted permission from other people to live my life. I wanted respect. I wanted some insane form of puppy dog approval from my masters as if that was the litmus by which I’d find ultimate happiness.

Where did it get me?

Twice divorced mother of four with few people I could count on and no money in the bank to pay for a pack of gum, not to mention important things like say rent… or power… or maybe food.

It also put me in the deepest, darkest bitch of a hole. One so deep I’d actually considered checking out. Dude, I was making plans. Like who would take care of my kid and how to divide up my crap plans. Like measuring how much damage it would do to my kids versus how much damage I was doing to them by being their mother plans.

We’re talking serious freaking abyss of nothingness with no foreseeable way out, save one, and me posed at the ready to take ticket to somewhere better than here. Because, in that moment, anywhere was better than here.

What stopped me? One word, the quietest sound I’d ever heard, not even a whisper. 

No.

For the first time in my life I said it.

No.

 

Then I said it again, a loud hush of hot breath following closely behind.

No.

 

And finally I yelled it out loud into the emptiness of that crushing black place until I heard it echoing back.

 

Next I said another word.

Yes…

to my happiness.

Yes…

 

to giving myself permission to follow my dreams.

Yes…

 

to saying no to all the people who have an opinion about how I should live my life.

 

Here’s the thing, everyone has an opinion about how to live, but that perspective only applies to their life, not anyone else’s. That’s their truth, and I respect the choices they make for their universe. Why? By definition it’s their world, and I don’t have to pay their bills, or raise their kids, or wear their shoes. So, how the hell can I possibly know what’s right or wrong for them? I can’t.

The flip-side.

They can’t possibly know what’s right or wrong for mine. More than that, they don’t have permission to because this is my life. And this is its new doctrine:

 

  1. Don’t ask permission to be happy, but don’t walk all over other people to live my happiness.
  2. Expect respect, but also give it. The caveat is not allowing people in my life who disrespect me via their words and actions.
  3. Be kind always.
  4. Have compassion for those struggling, but don’t take on their struggles as my own. This is a particularly difficult thing for me because I want to save the world *dons Super Woman cape*, but I now recognize I can’t do anything for anyone unless I’m doing it for myself first.
  5. Say no more than I say yes because I’m not every woman and it’s not all in me
  6. Give myself permission instead of asking everyone else.
  7. Opinion isn’t fact.
  8. Stop being afraid of what other people think and do it anyway. (See #1 and #3)
  9. Accept responsibility for allowing people to behave poorly and disrespect me, then move on and stop allowing it.
  10. Always strive to be the very best version of myself.

 

Short and sweet, a list of personal commandments to live my life. These are my truths, born from years of experience, birthed from the joy and pain of four decades. I have no answers moving forward. The outline for my future is a cartoon sketch, which is bound to hold just as much laughter as tears. None of this will be easy, but all of it will be worth it.

And therein lies my ultimate truth.

Only I can craft my happiness and purpose.

Be certain it will involve lots of bubble blowing. 🙂

The questions I leave for you: What does your happiness look like? Are you living it? 

Categories: belief, certainty, Choice, heart, lettng go, life, love, mistakes, moving forward, pain, relationships, self reflection, the fear that binds us, the next step, the universes we create, what once was | Tags: | 7 Comments

Cerise Dawn

0 red dawn

* * *

Cerise dawn,
lawn still fresh with dew.
She withdrew to uncover
spades large enough,
their rough watercolor edges,
and smooth ledges worn by love;
all scenes she could not see.

Dug in,
she begins the task
to unmask stalemates
that bind her heart.
Another start, but no falter.
She’ll halter the opines
until the job is done.

Letting go,
walk slow to keep from tripping.
The ripping no longer sounds
like bugle calls at twilight,
No night to halt the day,
these memories stay intact,
but lack the shadow
pain once cast.

* * *

Healing for the mind… and heart… and soul. 🙂

Categories: behind the words, certainty, Choice, choosing faith, heart, hope, journey, lettng go, rebirth, scars, unconditional love | Tags: | Leave a comment

First Steps

“And  the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the  risk it took to blossom.”
~ Anais Nin

* * *

Pain.

We suppress it. Look for any possible means to avoid it. Some people choose drugs and alcohol, others throw themselves into love, while still others are addicted to chasing after it as a completely different type of escape.

I did everything I could to avoid feeling the pain of losing that relationship—threw myself into writing, created the entire illusion of a life, including temporary relationships that would dull it for a time. Sure, they were all very nice, and the life I’ve created is less of an illusion now, but the truth is I needed to feel the full unbridled emotions of loss in order to move forward.

We all need to mourn. For many, they never get the chance to say goodbye. The long slow transition from lovers to friends hadn’t allowed me the closure I needed to let go of the first to fully embrace the second. I do blame him for part of that. My repeated attempts to say, “This is the end of the romance we had” were met with opposition because in some ways he was never ready to let go either. But, and this may sound harsh, his selfishness in not allowing that final moment, that final kiss prolonged what should have been a faster transition.

There would have been pain either way, but at least there would have been closure too.

After lying in a puddle on the kitchen floor, trembling and sobbing, the white-hot stabbing pain in my chest became a dull ache. It’s not over completely, one day of mourning isn’t likely to bring finality to anything, but it’s a start—one that was a long time coming to bear.

Happiness and bliss are wonderful, and I’d like to say that we grow more from love than anything else, but we’re human. So I’m not going to lie to you. Pain, loss, grief, anxiety, fear—they’re all a part of the cycle of growth and life. We must dig deep to find the tools to deal with them, instead of burying everything in an endless cavern for fear we won’t survive. We’re stronger than that, and built to withstand the successions of death and growth that face us. It’s a fact of our existence that everything eventually ends.

We are then confronted with another fact—The Next Step.

Where do we go after challenging our demons? Up?

Do we wake to another sunrise, drag out of bed, and then fall down into slumber to start again? Yes… and no.

Well, after a bout of compression (down cycle) we then move into expansion… or at least we’re supposed to. Some people get caught in a Bi-polaresque growth/death scenario because they have yet to fully deal with the pain. It’s rapid and destructive and tends to pull people back repeatedly. As long as we’re imprisoned there, we’ll never reach the expansion (up cycle) part of the journey.

Now, I’m not saying that up cycles are all giggles and laughs, but what’s important is the emotional and spiritual growth that happens because of the new tools we learn. Better ways to tackle anxiety, facing a loss instead of hiding from it, accepting failure as a part learning a better way to do something, creating long-lasting relationships built on a basis of love and trust, living in a daily state of happiness because you’ve seen the darkest days and know that the sun will eventually rise. All of these build a foundation. In them, we find that life can be as remarkable or ordinary as we choose to make it.

Ordinary is fine. However, most people choose it not because they desire a generally calm state of being, but because they’re afraid of facing pain, loss, grief, anxiety, and fear. Hiding ourselves from the world won’t stop any of those things from finding us, and can actually contribute to extended compression cycles in which no growth occurs.

Remarkable takes less work than most people think, but requires greater risk—risk of heartache, of loss, of failure, of everything not turning out in a precisely calculated way. But some of the best things, the greatest blessings in my life happened by sheer accident. I didn’t seek them out, but was open enough to let them in when they appeared.

That’s the way the universe works, it’s random and beautiful and calculated and spontaneous all at the same time. We may not know what lies in wait around the next corner, but after facing the darkness and coming out alive… what do really have to fear and what can we gain by risking it all?

Categories: belief, certainty, Choice, choosing faith, heart, hope, journey, lettng go, loss, love, moving forward, relationships, taking risks, the fear that binds us, the next step | Tags: , | 4 Comments

Purpose

Some people search their whole lives for it. Few see a glimpse; fewer still, will find it.

Even as a child, I knew my soul purpose in life was transition. Whenever a friend was going through a life-changing event, somehow they always turned to me for advice and support. As I moved into adulthood, the trend continued. The more I fought it, the more pain I felt until, one day, I stopped fighting.

I would say it’s a gift, an honor to help people, but honestly it’s not something you ask for. Not only is it completely draining, with that unconditional love and support, loss usually follows. Even if you become lifelong friends, which typically doesn’t happen, you have to let go in order for them to spread their newfound wings.

It’s similar to letting a child go out into the great big world. You want to hold on because you invested so much energy into the relationship (and you love them), but you understand that they need to take the next step. Eventually, everyone must stand alone, strong and heart-ready to face the world.

This is where I typically falter.

When you create such strong connections and watched so many people take that step, you don’t want to lose them. Sometimes you fight, sometimes you cry, and yet other times you lock yourself away in a cabin for the weekend aware that you are better for having known them.

Eventually, you’ll regain balance, make peace with the loss, and find renewed passion for this blessing the universe handed you.

I’ve met some incredible people in my life: writers, poets, artists, musicians, racecar drivers, pilots, architects, engineers, politicians, professors, rocket scientists, and everyday hardworking people.

The one thing that will never change, no matter how much pain I experience, is that I’m thankful… no… honored that they were part of my life.

 

*   *   *

“…try and see my heart…”

Categories: choosing faith, contentment, heart, lettng go, pain, purpose, relationships, the next step, unconditional love | Tags: | Leave a comment

Pretty Dreams

When the walls come crashing down around you, your first instinct is to hold onto everything else that makes sense. You reach for something that seems solid—only to find it’s actually a shadow.

The initial reaction is surprise.

Such care and love went into building each layer, how could it possibly not exist? The foundation felt so firm to the heart, at least, in the quiet moments when the world stopped spinning.

The reality is no matter how much you put into building something, if the other person isn’t willing to give back, then you really didn’t create anything at all. It’s a figment of a relationship, a pretty dream, just like the stories we write.

Still, you hold onto the pretty dream because it’s familiar. So, even when the words “I’m done” come out of your mouth, you rearrange the world to give it one more shot. That’s when the truth becomes clear like the morning fog burning off the ocean when the sun comes up. In the end, everyone else is still more important than the want or need they claim is everything.

With all that lies around your feet, it’s the straw that will bring the mountain tumbling down. Or so you think.

The truth is—you’re strong than you might believe.

There’s only one thing left to do now: leave the keys by the sofa you spent so many long nights laughing on, leave the ring on the chair where he sits to write whispers from the universe, and take one long look around before walking away.

Then spend the weekend in a quiet cabin in the woods drinking wine, writing, and remembering that—in order to give to someone else, you must first take a moment for yourself.

Categories: certainty, heart, lettng go, life, love, messages, purpose, relationships, the next step, tomorrow, writing | Tags: | 2 Comments

Crossroads

Crossroad casualties

abnormalities of smart enough

to show up, too young to care

warning flares will set

the heading straight

just wait to find the limit

 

Inane carriage proposals

marked traces of reservation

behind sedimentary fear

so clear the toss of forever

he’ll never wander there

still far too young to care

 

disillusioned renders

lenders of the immediate

but not a moment more

the core of volatility

swollen with instability

a heart that stays at war

Categories: Drive by life, heart, lettng go, life, love, memories, messages, relationships | Tags: | 3 Comments

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