The Weatherman

No one can predict the future, a person very near and dear to me told me that. The future as a whole remains largely undefined until it's actual occurrence. Some things are certain, constant. You don't wonder if the sun will rise at dawn, or if the moon will wax and wane continuously. Elsewhere, we like to believe that the good things in our lives, whether they be activities, homes, schools, or people; will be in our lives indefinitely. Regardless of this hope, this want, people and places and names fade over time. I have forgotten the faces of more people that I can even count. I have forgotten the feel of the ground beneath my bare feet in the hills of Tennessee where I spent my childhood, the babble of the creek that ran through my yard where I spent so many hours dreaming my boyish, foolish dreams. I have forgotten so much, more than I could probably ever remember.

But the feel of your hand in mine, the warmth of your skin, the radiance of your smile, the overwhelming breadth of joy I get out of something as simple as your hair, the sound of your voice against my ear, the gentle weight the settles on me as we lie hand in hand, the sunwell of happiness that springs forth in all directions at the mere sight of you;

Those things I will never allow to fade. Those are things I refuse to lose, things I refuse to let go of. I will never see the day when you are just a picture in the inky parts of my mind. Your memory will never falter, and never fade. My love for you is like the rising of the sun at dawn, the waxing and waning of the moon at night, as permanent as the ocean is wide.

Saw The Gap Again Today

Why do we fear to tell? Why are we so afraid of letting our inner self out? Is it fear of rejection from others, or is there some other factor involved? I assert the notion that while fear of rejection from others may be a contributor, the real reason so few people know how to express themselves in an open manner with those around them is because save for a small margin; almost nobody accepts who they are on any real level. You have your obvious self-rejections like homosexuality, and the many facets of identification that pertain to religion, but what about others? What about accepting yourself as a weak, needy person? What about accepting that you aren't as good hearted as you would like to believe? What do you do when the person you know you are on the inside is repressed by the little voice in the back of your head that whispers ever so softly:

"You are not supposed to be that way.
That isn't who you are.
That's not who you're allowed to be."

At what point does society's repression of the individual stop, and the own self-imposed imprisonment begin? Is there a way to break the cycle, to de-rail the train? What is the cost of freedom from ourselves?

Roll It

It's like cancer. Like sick, depraved cancer. It's eating me from the inside out. I do nothing to stop the onslaught. I wade knee deep in it's metaphorical waters. I feel it slide over me slimy smooth, soft and bitter-cold. The candle wick is bent into the wind, and the flame threatens to plume out of existence at any suspect gust from the approaching storm.

It's like waiting for the world to end.

One Two Three

I've wondered sometimes what blank paper must feel like. To know that you were completely unused and unmarked, and that there was almost no limit to what you could be used for. Some of the most important events in history can be tied to a single sheet of paper, some written word or other.

I wonder if there are people that can basically be described as blank paper. People who don't have anything but the potential to be anything and everything. And if people like that exist, can we assume that there are people wielding metaphorical pens as well? If "blank paper" people exist, there has to be people who make them into something besides "blank" right?

Either way, I feel like salad tonight.

7/4/2010

Just made this, feeling rather sleepy. Not much else on my mind. The rain makes me feel lonesome, and I'd really like to see a very certain someone right about now. But at least I have mein dog to keep me company, even if she is blissfully unaware.

Will post more later on.