Love looking, lusting, holding, flying angel, anger, apple
Citrus= certify
"Art is why I get up in the morning, but my definition ends there. You know it doesn't seem fair that I'm living for something I can't even define." -ani d
A definition of self:
fire runs through me like lava from the depths of this planet. Emotions fall unfettered from every opening in my mind and fill the space around me and in me until my world is saturated like flood plains, like the jungle after summer's downpour. I cling to these things that I do not understand because they are the only sense of self that I know. I have very little left for a defense mechanism. Maybe a lingering superficiality that drives away most of those that are capable of tearing it down. I am slowly destroying the social graces, the prejudices and the fear and guilt that held down the process. So many people in my life have contributed to the disintegration of that separation- that mask. My mother did everything in her power (with little or no effort on her part) to teach me how to push down and break the will of anything that could touch me that deeply, could hurt me in any way. She did it to herself and my father even more deeply and completely than she could reach or teach me. Give me your hands that I might reach you. Give me your mind so that I might learn and learn to teach you. I am no longer the rock, the island my father gladly accepts as his role, his definition. I have my books and my poetry, but they are no longer my armour or my outlet- they are my life force, my inspiration and my oracle. They betray any Truth I manage to obscure or alter. Thank you to whatever part of my brain refuses to be held down- I don't think I'd make it without you. The noise still happens and still manages to hurt me, frighten me, but I'm a little better at control, at a return to reality from that point.
I'm so afraid of being too serious. I'm so afraid of being taken seriously. Will I still figure out how to laugh? Will I be able to defend who I am and what I stand for? I'm afraid of being shallow- is anything I say or think really my own? Am I one of the many, lost in the fray? I'm afraid of not caring. I'm afraid of being plain. I'm afraid of beind intellectual. Will I be able to maintain my "sanity"? How can I be a philosopher and a romantic? Is anything I say TRUE? I'm afraid of being an individualist. I've spent so much time looking like a lot of other people and trying not to say or do anything that other people wouldn't say or do. No matter how I try, I can't even fit into MY concept of what I'm supposed to be. IT EMBODIES WHAT SHE CANNOT BE...
SHE'S NOT LIKE YOU AND ME AND SHE DOESN'T WANT TO BE
"I've been a long time coming, I'll be a long time gone. You get your whole life to do something and that's not very long." -ani d
"I've been a long time coming, I'll be a long time gone. You get your whole life to do something and that's not very long." -ani d