Do you want to take a trip with me? Back to the old days and the old way in which I was turned into this wild mess of a soul? Do you want to go back to the darkness with me and to the uncommon way in which I led myself into a downward spiral into the muck of which I called my life? Me either.
But its a trip I would like to take from time to time to remind myself of how I got here to the person I am now. And what kind of asshole would I be if I turned my back on my demons and pretended like I was conceived by angels? I like to consume myself in my yesterdays and cradle my mistakes close to my heart like a newborn to the ever tasteful milk of his mother.
Yes, I have fallen in love with my sorrows and nourished them completely into the strong parts of myself. Ive held them so dear that they are now memories on repeat like an old movie caught on the reel. These are my children, my lovers, my friends. They are there to haunt me when no one is around and when no one cares to comfort the aching part of me. Ive learned to love them strong like the wine in which I choose to drown them away.
You were one of them. You still are. You in all of your vibrant colors that reflect against my grey coat I like to wear when it rains. You make like hurricanes and tornados and tear through my heart and I can feel them wanting to rip through my rib cage some nights. You are like the most powerful storm I have ever encountered. And yet, I still consider you to be the lullaby in which my tears keep the tempo to. Youre wonderful and powerful and magnificent in your own little world, ripping through mine and leaving no survivors.
I love you. I hate you. I color you. I demand you. I even pity you. youve taken so much from me and yet its never enough. Youll never be full, always starving for what you think you are missing and never finally settling. Youre always so tempted by the next beautiful valley you encounter, to mutilate its beautiful brush area and tear the trees from the roots. You are such a storm that loves to damage anything in its way. You are the heavy rain that caused the world to flood when Noah tried to save it. You are the fire that will burn through and leave no hope for a beautiful beginning.
You dont even know you are all of this. Im not even so sure you care. You shouldnt. No proper storm ever cares and what would be the point. Youre here to diminish, take every little bit I have. And I will always, somehow find a way to replenish what you have so greedily taken, and make new the field inside me. I always replant and rewater and watch it all grow, waiting for your powerful thunder and striking lightening all over again. Ill always make this beautiful land yours for the taking. You deserve it. Nothing with such unprecedented power should ever have to starve for a new canvas to paint your disaster on. So here Ill wait with my flowers blooming and my trees sprouting and Ill be here in this spot when you decide to return.
But its a trip I would like to take from time to time to remind myself of how I got here to the person I am now. And what kind of asshole would I be if I turned my back on my demons and pretended like I was conceived by angels? I like to consume myself in my yesterdays and cradle my mistakes close to my heart like a newborn to the ever tasteful milk of his mother.
Yes, I have fallen in love with my sorrows and nourished them completely into the strong parts of myself. Ive held them so dear that they are now memories on repeat like an old movie caught on the reel. These are my children, my lovers, my friends. They are there to haunt me when no one is around and when no one cares to comfort the aching part of me. Ive learned to love them strong like the wine in which I choose to drown them away.
You were one of them. You still are. You in all of your vibrant colors that reflect against my grey coat I like to wear when it rains. You make like hurricanes and tornados and tear through my heart and I can feel them wanting to rip through my rib cage some nights. You are like the most powerful storm I have ever encountered. And yet, I still consider you to be the lullaby in which my tears keep the tempo to. Youre wonderful and powerful and magnificent in your own little world, ripping through mine and leaving no survivors.
I love you. I hate you. I color you. I demand you. I even pity you. youve taken so much from me and yet its never enough. Youll never be full, always starving for what you think you are missing and never finally settling. Youre always so tempted by the next beautiful valley you encounter, to mutilate its beautiful brush area and tear the trees from the roots. You are such a storm that loves to damage anything in its way. You are the heavy rain that caused the world to flood when Noah tried to save it. You are the fire that will burn through and leave no hope for a beautiful beginning.
You dont even know you are all of this. Im not even so sure you care. You shouldnt. No proper storm ever cares and what would be the point. Youre here to diminish, take every little bit I have. And I will always, somehow find a way to replenish what you have so greedily taken, and make new the field inside me. I always replant and rewater and watch it all grow, waiting for your powerful thunder and striking lightening all over again. Ill always make this beautiful land yours for the taking. You deserve it. Nothing with such unprecedented power should ever have to starve for a new canvas to paint your disaster on. So here Ill wait with my flowers blooming and my trees sprouting and Ill be here in this spot when you decide to return.
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p.s. on SG, there is a good chance that responding to someone in the comment thread of your own blog will not be noticed by the person you are responding to. just a heads up
p.p.s. welcome