Nice Try

Well, my self-control to abide by my promise to swear off writing in this blog could not constrain my temptations. I guess it was a "nice try," a nice pathetic attempt to suffice old feelings of a harsh reality that I created for myself.

I never thought my own doubts, troubles, and fears would cause a commotion in the dark forest I was trying to walk alone in. I never thought my footsteps alone would awaken the creatures in the dark, ready to block my path and force me to retreat and re-read the warning signs.

Embarrassment, stupidity, anger, and resentment are making me re-trace my steps and walk backwards to the fork in the road, to see once and for all, where the truth really lies. And if the forest's loving creatures block my way to keep me from walking into the darkness, perhaps I'll walk out into to the sunlight for them, and over time, "for them" will be for me. God's loving creatures deserve to be admired in all their beauty and glory, glimmering within the sunlight.

And if, for whatever reason, the sun starts to blind me and the dark shades of the forest entice me, I'll still remain in the sun for them, so that they can experience life in all it's greatness. I'll just wear sunglasses.

Take a Deep Breath, Take a Step Back, and Take a Moment to Realize What You've Forgotten

It seems much too long since I've written a new post--not out of laziness, lack of priorities, or pure animosity, but rather from the absence of inspiration and passion to write something beautiful.

I ask you, my dear friends, why must this always happen? Is it something I'm consistently doing wrong that kills my muse and destroys my love of "art?" Is it something I'm unconsciously doing to mask my insecurities in a hopeless and meaningless way? I just don't seem to understand why I continuously find myself in this situation--angry with both God and myself, discouraged from life, and swearing off my pen and its gift.

Sometimes, inspiration to write is hard to find. But I've learned over the years that the more you try to be inspired, the more you start digging a grave to kill your own writing. Nevertheless, I always seem to end up being my very own crypt-keeper; apparently, I never learn from my past mistakes. The revelation that the villain is truly myself, however, comes only after a graphic battle to unmask my true identity and discover who I am. And by the end of this gruesome fight, I realize that my love lays dying on the floor ready to be buried, and my excitement for life is no where to be found for it fled from war.

And so, after four tiresome, yet rewarding days on an "Emmaus-ing" journey, I've come to the realization that I'm not happy with myself--I'm not proud of where I've been, I'm not pleased with where I'm going, and I'm disappointed with the person I've become. Yet, the zeal to better myself, to improve my situations, to strengthen my relationship with both God and my family, seem to be nonexistent. In fact, the more I seem to examine myself, the more I realize there's not much to really examine. Not because the soul isn't something worth examining; on the contrary, it's by far the most intricately beautiful piece of art that God could ever create. But, my soul and my conscience seems to be falling deeper into a black abyss, and sadly, because of the lies I've been told and the truths I've refused to believe, it continues to fall without the will to bring it back up.

So, it really is time to take a deep breath, take a step back, and take a moment to remember what I've already forgotten. Because there's one truth and one reality...the rest is just a lie. And until I can figure out for myself whether we live in a fantasy world or we live within the truth, my heart will continue to skip a beat. And since my pen, this blog, and my writing lives to be the "breath" of my very heart, I guess it's time to discover what's making my heart lose its breath, and therefore, skip a beat.

And so, my friends, I think it's time to take a step back--not just from this blog, but from many things in my life. Perhaps it's time to set out on my own into the woods and see how far I can fight the darkness on my own. Perhaps it's time to live or die, sink or swim, and see how far life can take me without my safety nets always by my side. After all, what's the point of living if you never step out into the dangers of the wilderness to discover the hidden beauties that lie within the darkness?

I'm not quite sure what this all means--I'm not quite sure where I go from here, or if I'm even making sense to anyone, including myself. I'm not confident that I'm making the right decision, at all, but I need to try. I need to do this, for myself and myself alone, without any of the lies drowning out my ability to discover the truth.

So, here's to truth, the real truth. Here's to discovering what it is and where it hides, and why, for some strange reason, I've never been able to taste it. Let's hope the truth guides me to where I need to go, and if I get lost, gives me the courage to come back home. Here's to the "breath" of my heart, or lack thereof....just for now.

Smothered, Smashed, "Smuel-ed"

Beware the beady eyes that follow at night,

Through every dark corner as you slowly tread.

For they will haunt you for eternal length's flight,

And make your mind flee from horror and distress.

Run, I tell you, flee with haste!

When the monster wakes with a forceful gaze

And finds his prey to hunt and chase,

He'll hunger for you and track for days.

'Til innocence is no longer found

And the monster consumes your very soul

Your cries will become the only sound

Of sorrow and death--a story to be told.

Run, I tell you, flee with haste!

I see him rising from deep slumber,
Awakening and quickening his pace,

With a sudden liking and earthly wonder.

Heed my warning: danger ahead!

Be prepared to fight and win,

For his beastly cry will make you dead

And bring your remains to his kin.

Run, I tell you, flee with haste

Though you're safely kept inside your home,

Now his gaze has found my face

And your safety has kept me alone.

Now I must fend for myself

And swiftly run with nowhere to hide.

Hear my painful cries for assistance and help,

As I scurry along with my sobbing cries.

Now I must beware the eyes that haunt me at night,

Through every dark corner as I slowly tread

For they will haunt me for eternal length's flight

And make my mind flee from horror and distress.

My "Bad" Friend

My darling, my love, my dearest friend:

I write these lines 'bout your bitter rant,

Which your God only knows and understands.

Though Conscience tells me to stop and pray,

For enlightened mind; though they're silly words.

While mouths speak once, the heart will say

The passion and tenderness for which you yearn.

And though I too am foolish and cease

To speak of struggles driven by madness,

I bite my tongue so that you may find peace

And speak only words to change your heart of sadness.

I write, though pained, for you asked me to

And so, my heart writes this as I take a poo.

Disclaimer: The last line of this poem was written by my friend, for my friend, strictly as a joke. Please do not doubt my writing capabilities and professionalism because of the silly, though hilarious ending.

The Broken Heart--The Blackened Room

I turn the knob and enter into a room of darkness,
Shaking with the sound of a sobbing soul.
I glance to find red stains glaring up at me,
Only to realize it's a broken heart upon the floor.
I stumble on in, fighting my way through
Towards the hysteric screams of my best friend,
Engrossed in the blackness of a painful enclosure,
She locked herself away for her own bitter end.
Carefully, I tread avoiding the tragic remains
That haunt my every footstep trying to get near,
Yet, the closer I get the more she screams,
My footsteps intensifying her very own fears.
And with each step, my own heart escapes,
Overflowing, completely out of control.
For her heart is mine, and mine is hers.
And her broken heart breaks my very soul.