August 9th, 2010 11:30pm

I wrote this the first night of my senior year. A lot has changed and shifted and evolved and grown since that point, but everything is still eerily sort of similar.... here goes:

"And so I sit.
Intentionally skipping and avoiding the songs I know will bring tears.
I sit in a place unfamiliar and familiar all at the same time.
In a space with bare walls,
with clean floors, still fresh from having been replaced.
I hear the crickets. I'm not looking. I am listening.
There is a train.
I sit in a bed. Far too big for just one body.
The simplicity of this room is one that comforts and scares me even more.
To be here now is almost to be chained to a ship crossing uncharted waters.
To repeat the cycle. The yearly. The weekly.
The daily.
The hourly.
And when it comes to it - the minutely.
Where finding a space or a time to just exist becomes difficult.
The anxiety and the excitement is enough to cause trauma to my head and heart.
Memories, thoughts, and feelings constantly feeding off eachother inside of me. Exploding and expanding. Causing my mind to race and my heart to pound.
To wait.
To be weary of the potential heartache.
To be intrigued of the potential romance.
To be cautious of the potential. Potential energy.
But still, to be here is to be waiting.
But the questions is: what am I waiting for?
And is the wait worth it?"

---

WOW. WOW. WOW.

cycles.

sometimes i have to remind myself that the earth is not a cold, dead place.

which leads to me reminding myself that my heart is not a cold, dead place.

which leads to me telling myself that people are not stone; there is fire inside of them.

which makes me realize that God is breathing into people.

then i feel my own Self and heart being breathed upon; a Light being shone into this darkness.

then i find myself alone or waking up in the morning, and the perpetual cycle of this thought has to start all over.

but lately, i am feeling the Sun again.

i can't help it when i get into these moods. whats mine is mine, and i am not eager to share what i have. i can't help when i feel an invasion of my relationships is coming; when something i have cultivated and made my own feels tread upon. my self worth has been beaten into the ground, and just when i find myself building it back up, something always intervenes, causing me to retreat back into my Self, away from the crowd and those i care the most about.

where two or three are gathered, there i am content and happy.

i know i invent these in my head. i can't help it.

Live Oak, with Moss.

I SAW in Louisiana a live-oak growing,
All alone stood it, and the moss hung down from the branches,
Without any companion it grew there, uttering joyous leaves of dark green,
And its look, rude, lusty, made me think of myself.


But I wondered how it could utter joyous leaves, standing alone there, without its friend, its lover near -- for I knew I could not,
And I broke off a twig with a certain number of leaves upon it, and twined around it a little moss,
And brought it away -- and I have placed it in sight in my room,
It is not needed to remind me as if my own dear friends,
(For I believe lately I think of little else than of them,)
Yet it remains to me a curious token -- it makes me think of manly love;
For all that, and though the live-oak glistens there in Louisiana, solitary, in a wide flat space,
Uttering joyous leaves all its life, without a friend, a lover, near,
I know very well I could not.

-from "Calamus Poems" from "Leaves of Grass" by Walt Whitman.

--

This makes me want to cry.

did it hurt?

when mumford fell from heaven?




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