Shake it up

We are so involved in our own that it's hard to see.
Hard to see ourselves and our lives from the outside, looking in.

And we misunderstand.
We punish ourselves and one another for all the things we have done.
Is it possible to be freed from old sins? Can ours be washed away, our innocence restored?
Because I remember and I'm tired.

Not sure we can recover from what we did to us.
Doubting if we have forgiven each other.
But there is this certainty in me that it is not finished.
That there must be a reason we keep coming back looking for something, anything.

Because there's no continuous narrative, only lit up moments and the rest is dark.
And the truth is I recall all those moments of togetherness with perfect clarity.
Distinguishing them from the darkness, I know I will not walk away from that light.

Crash and burn

"Let me be the one you call, if you jump I'll break your fall,
lift you up and fly away with you into the night.
If you need to fall apart, I can mend a broken heart.
If you need to crash, then crash and burn you're not alone."

it is unfortunate.
This role I've somehow created for myself.
I am the anchor, I am the in-case-of-emergency, Call me- I always answer

Available for break-ups, deaths, anxiety, low self-esteem or the average rant.
I will make you feel good about yourself until you do feel good enough to leave.
Perhaps I will introduce you to the love of your life?
Of course I will also neglect my own issues just so that I can save your life.
Why not?

They say admitting your problem is the first step.
But what if my problem is everybody else's benefit?
And what if I did this all on my own and it is too late to change?

And I will forever wait in the corner of your eye, for the next crisis.

When one is pretending, the whole body revolts.

The body can endure compromise and the mind can be seduced by it
- only the heart protests.

This is what it all comes down to. Living with your heart.
What does all the rest mean if you aren't doing what your core is telling you to do?
How can you look around you and see all that needs to change and do nothing?

But finding your inner desires is hard work.
Digging deep, looking into that box is like releasing a raging flood.
Wild thoughts flapping about, connecting dots are found all around you and your mind won't shut down.
Once you start you cannot finish until you find the answer.

Do you want to live in a world where you have to fit in, to make do with things, ignore better judgment?
Or are you someone who will work to change what is wrong, will you adjust the world to you
instead of tucking all that ambition, all those dreams neatly into your pocket?

We must be the change that we want to see, because there is nobody else.
The truth is not out there, it is in each and every one of us.
The question is: Are we willing to face it?

we make our own narratives.

The fact that each year consists of the same dates, returning year after year,
forces me to think back and remember all the things that happened on this very day.
This is my 28th November 13th, but the only thing I seem to recall is #26,
in a tiny room in Vienna, with a cross on the wall (so much for holiness..)

All my attempts to let go of the past have failed miserably,
and I find that each time I gladly dig up the same bittersweet memories,
always asking myself, why does nothing matter as much as this?

It's a convenient, rethorical question,
demanding no answer and making any chosen context sound heavy with significance.
And I crave that weight.
I want to be so close to the ground to almost crumble under the burden of my own feelings.
Agony is not optional, it just means you're doing it right.

So, perhaps there's a reason why I won't let go of those aching memories.
Maybe he is destined to play this part in my life.
Without him there would be no plot. Should I let him be the muse of this story, - my story?

"Feelings are choices that you don't get to make", I read somewhere.
But what if we really do choose our feelings?
What if I chose everything that happened?
Why do I keep choosing him time after time,when I am never rewarded?
What does he give me that nobody else will?

- a good story.
the perfect point of departure and a narrative.

Cogito ergo sum Sophia


Appearently it is something that can and should be tested.
Nosce te ipsum (know thyself) is a well known maxim and the Ancient Greeks knew their stuff.
I am exploring myself. Discovering my inner mechanics. Understanding my personal illusions.
Some might say, 'if it ain't broken, don't fix it'...
But it is a pre-cautionary inspection, a vaccine shot for the mind.

And the tests don't lie.
Here are the answers to all my hitherto doubts, concerns and questions.
According to Humanmetrics, only 3% of the population share my personality type:investigator/counselor.
Investigators are distinguished by the paradoxical mind of both doer & dreamer.
We share a deep concern for the destiny of humanity and spend our time contemplating it.
Human interaction is enjoyable only when it is profound, we shy away from superficial relationships.

We suddenly withdraw to prevent ourselves from emotional overload caused by our exceptional intuition.
Often charactized by inner conflicts, we are preoccupied with complex thoughts and imaginary constructs.
An earnest desire to understand the world drives us to constantly search and question everything,
and our self-expression takes the form of the written word.
All things unthinkable, secretive and unknown appeal to us

As though this was not illustrative enough, here are some words I've collected along the road of life:
Reality is the name we give to our disappointments

We cannot find peace by building a floor over unanswered questions and living upon it.

Fellowship imprisons, freedom exiles.

The basis of action is lack of imagination. It is the last resource of those who know not how to dream.

The continuous narrative of existence is a lie. There is no continuous narrative.
Only lit up momoents and the rest is dark.

The list goes on...
So, here it all is.
My obsession with metaphors and aphorisms. This strange desire to be surrounded by people but inside my own mind. The comfortable safety offered by words scrabbled on a white page, or even a screen.
The questions that challenge my every preconceived notion, my worldview. and yours.

It's no explanation, no solution or remedy.
It is a sort of manual, the ingredients of my recipe, my list of content.
I think, therefore I am myself?

'He's so fluffy I'm going to die'

There's that word.

A word full of smiles, promises and hopes of something.
One word takes me back to another time and space. A small place with big feelings.
A room with austere furniture just like another empty room many years ago.
Is this what I do?
Break in and make my own space in rooms that do not belong to me and where I'm not wanted?

And I wonder, like I have wondered so many times without ever finding the answer.
I play myself like a broken record, asking why, for what, for whom?
You are quiet, unaware of my existential crisis and only slightly aware of me.

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