+ Just a step away from paradise

yeah, another template with a lily on it

Time seems to slip through my fingers like sand these days, just run and run through my hands whilst i desperately try to grab at certain moments which i'd like to keep. If i don't write things down properly in my own diary entries i'd prolly have no recollection of how i'd passed these days a week from now. Somehow or other i find myself scared or lost between intermittent states of contentment and strange little odd moments of soft depression, before rocketing up to sky blue times of bubbling happiness.

i guess when so many things hang in a balance, you just feel, in odd sorts of states.

strange

After a while, i'm starting to get used to it, life in just a room and nothign else, where the only adventure outside is to use the front door or the toilet, otherwise stuck in this small space where the only person who knows you exist there and then is you.

on a brighter note, i finally get the hang of learnign how to live and not care so much anymore. which is good. i think that ultimately the people who drive me crazy drive me crazy because i allow them to. Oh well. I think i better go get food now. hm..

There may come a point in time when you realise that what you believed was your support system has utterly failed you. Like a vine without an elm you realise the cruel reality of dependancy, that a porcupine without its spines cannot survive in this world. You wonder then where did your independance disappear to, where did that ability to fight for self, to live for self go? Your spines have been very cruelly pulled out, each one of them, in your own growing process whereby which now the cry for help is obliterated by the fact that it is too late, and you are now left to bleed to death on your own. The happiness that would have been given to any self-protecting soul has been but a pair of broken wings in their hands, thrown away carelessly in the big rubbish heap of which time has swiftly removed and cleared, utterly non-existent.

And yet, you find that the heart starts to grow again, stronger a muscle and infinitely able to live once more. You now wait to define your own blurry-edged existence, raw and bruised with crying over the pain of an unnatural death. You will turn close every single door that would have led to a continuation of your past existence, waiting in the wings for a new central role that will let you grow new wings, far greater than the pair that guided you before, far better than the past that you had learnt to grow in. There will always be too many opinions to listen to, too many things to say, and conflict is never avoided, it festers and grows, as you now see in the decrepit stench of remaining relationships left to be broken, and for some, reconstructed anew. You see not that need to stay indoors anymore, and take that first step towards the creation of a new self that lives like the mighty oak, strong and unyielding to the howling wind.

From this point forth, i break any emotional obligations i have with the lot of you. There is only so much to hope with the dawning of the next sunrise.

~* i hereby reject all reasons outside that of 'self' in the name of love.

you know, i always wondered why people believe that those old grandmas with lots of cats are supposedly sad at they're spinsterhood.

why cldn't they be happy living with their cats, really?

on another level, why can't she have a brood of puppies instead?

~*little little granny

It is not difficult to understand why
i love you.
Its like the plants reaching out towards the sun,
embracing all its heat from dawn till dusk,
unquestioning, fresh, and above all,
natural.

Its not been moving much, this blog here.

I have been online, but not particularly sociable lately, of my select few. I have been more private lately. I disdain sharing thoughts that i believe people will never understand, and i try to keep a bit more to myself than usual. I hate it when the paternal units pry in and pretend they know everything there is about life, when they don't. This blog has been reduced to more of my odd-ended rantings than really talking about what's inside. What really haunts me. I perhaps have been swaddling myself too much in reclusive habits, thinking processing forgetting feeling unfeeling detaching, but little leaks out to elsewhere, minus a select few. I've become ever less the talker. Perhaps i'll be reduced to that little person on a sidewalk who just stands and stares at passing traffic, forever muted by the giant sounds of city life.

sometimes i fear my own heart, when it starts to turn cold and emotionless. I fear the times when it starts to get icy, when parts of me long to reach out and turn vicious, brutalising people emotionally , physically, mentally. I fear those moments when i actually long to crush things beneath my heel just to make the people that hurt me writhe in agony. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, i get scared at my own propensity for violence.

I think of myself, and i think of my own self-protection gear. My mind is my greatest protector of my heart, but sometimes, i think i use it not often enough, but just where i think it really matters.

~* the idle recluse sitting on the balcony

~*