Cleansed.

This week is going to be good.

I am insistent.

And I am stubborn.

This past weekend had me laying in bed until 4pm almost everyday.

I don't like when I do things like this.

It scares me a lot... but not because of the actual actions or rather, inactions, themselves, but because I know that there is always always always someTHING that makes me act that way.

And that's just it.

SomeTHING.

Thing.

An "it" that I somehow let allow define so much in my state of being.

An "it" that changes my "be" by kidnapping my "do".

And that just simply will not do.

So yesterday, as if in preparation for a burial, I disposed of some necessary things.

Almost none of it tangible, but I threw them out nonetheless.

And then I purged.

Through sunshine.

And dogs.

And good friends- who have been around since I can remember and are still around.

And good conversation- that we have had as far back as I can remember and still have.

And noticing the little things, like the way the moon looked at dusk.

Or that sometimes, it's better to not go through the front door, but squeeze through a fence in the back just because you've never done it before.

Just because no one ever does it.

Just because they don't believe they're allowed to.

I'm done with believing that there are somehow things that I myself am not "allowed" to do.

The world is infinitely open to me at all times, it's just a matter of grasping for it.

And it doesn't always have to look as it has for me in the past- hurried glances through moving windows, whether they be car, train, plane, or even ship.

Beauty is allowed to stand still every once in a while.

And it's really only then that we are able to notice the still and quiet beauties anyway.

And I don't want to miss those.

I never want to miss those.

I think I may have finally started that book that people keep telling me I should write.

I have also written a few more pieces. And a song.

Did you hear that?

A song.

It's about damn time.

I have a piano lesson on Thursday.

And a Passover potluck date with my "family".

Lindsey comes in town on Wednesday.

Every time I feel myself to be going completely crazy, the only person I can stand to be around is her.

James comes in town on Thursday. We're going to need to get away with his guitar for a while.

This will be good.

My eyes are beginning to open and I am starting to see.

There is enough beauty in today for me to keep myself from thinking about tomorrow.

And the only reason there should ever be enough space in my senses to start dwelling on the worries of tomorrow, is if I should stop filling those senses with the beauties of today.

And I pray I never will.

Please, don't ever let me.

So, this whole time, it's been an attempt to shake me off the trail.

So you could look like it's not your fault.

Well fuck that shit.

You do not want to fucking play me.

Trust me.

You really don't want to open that can, because you have no idea what I'm capable of.

Seriously.

Just you wait.

It'll certainly be fun for me.

I just can't make that same promise for you.

For I could stand to lose all things except my sense of self

It's an interesting place to be in, when you know you need to write, but you have no idea what to say.

Or better yet, you know exactly what you want to say, but you have no idea how to say it.

I've been thinking a lot lately about life, and plans, and decisions, and my penchant towards hastiness and impulsivity.

And my conclusion is that it is one of the things that I love the most about myself.

But while I feel it is my blessing, I also know it is as much my curse.

Because when I move along, there are usually bodies in my wake.

And over time, this causes me to look at myself and ask my heart what in the hell it's doing.

And I need to know if I'm the only one who thinks this way.

Am I the only one this crazy?

Sometimes I feel like I am.

And most times, I'm okay with being alone in that.

But occasionally, when misunderstood, I find myself wishing I could quiet certain doubts by being the same as everyone else.

But I think if I even took a step towards that, I would slowly die.

For I could stand to lose all things, except my sense of self.

And if it means the loss of things in order to keep my sense of self, so be it.

I will not fight against who I am. I spent a hell of a long time doing that, and an even longer time observing people around me doing that and it makes me want to scream and cry and punch... something. I don't know. It gives me a violent reaction. It makes my pulse race. It scares the living shit out of me.

For I could stand to lose all things, except my sense of self.

I could stand to lose all things, except my sense of self.

I could stand to lose all things, except my sense of self.