For The Record

A man is crowded within himself. To let go of the bonds that tie us together is an insult, and only comparable in the eyes of the one who committed it. The only person one has to blame for everything around them, is ones-self. And the ability to be able to overcome, and forgive that which has tortured a mans soul is a lesson.

The ties that bond are sacred, and once broken, will not be repaired easily, even if one has the right mind to do so. It's impossible to mend scars, physically and emotionally. Because they will always be inside the eye of the beholder.

To let go is a hard task. and the roads that will come before me are not of a crimson cord showing me the way. There is no way except for the one I ultimately decide to seek out, and even at that I cannot fix the situations I have faulted. I can metaphorically cover them up with good deeds, physical and mental gifts. But I will never be able to mend others, because of myself.

I would like to think I keep an open mind, but there are days where I am closed to those around me, battered by the construction of lies which surround us. Carefully and meticulously created never to topple, but with the press of a button, a man is essentially lighting himself on fire.

The sincerity of which I was surrounded, seems to always have been an illusion of time. An illusion to my mind. I know the Ideas of what I once had, and have come to realize its frailty. I have no one else to blame for my circumstances but myself and the action I took to solve problems I believed to exist.

I am my own worst enemy.

Streams

there have been many days, in which i have yearned to write. today is one of those days, I will explain later. my days have become increasingly more difficult, pressures from the desire and ambition to flourish, academically I wish. But more from the desire to make myself successful to my owners, as well as the world in which I live. While I am oppressed by the ideas of mankind's hindrance to one another, I hope that I may write. While I do so I am still distracted by the days pressures. I am constantly peering into the world. And why it may be the way it is, All is calm? all is calm? whats been happening to it.
where have the leaders gone, while i am hindered by brutes and objecated to perform. will we not be just friends in friends? be able to unconsciously hand a man a dollar and know that, along somewhere it will be returned? to do so, is troublesome. Which one day as all my generation hopes, can be done so.
it has come across my path that things, happen for a reason, yet i cannot yet begin to comprehend the enigmatic chaos in which I seem to call life. Life is, and its hard to put a word on it. Its a wonderful concept in and all, but the days seem more mundane, I don't feel as if I am awake, even though I know I am awake to my happenings, the same things which enjoyed me as a child, Which still do, happen often, and I do not feel as connected when I was a child anymore. My boyish curiosity of the world seems dead to me, and I cannot stand it. Where has my muse gone, a great friend has been lost. And I cry for it, such pains cannot be expressed through useless words to my emotions, they cannot be stopped, and I feel them all the time, these chasms of remorse and Joy, the separated yet knife close point of parallels which are near to me and can be lost in a grasp, the saddening idea of why. Why has brought me nothing, while joy is found, I am supposed to find peace in suffering. Its a wonderful Idea, but I do not know myself. I would like to, but it is quite hard to understand, when the one thing that one truly desires to understand is always, just, out of reach of my mind. My place, my current set in this wonderful complexity in which I call life. I find myself at times, too anxious. Paranoid of my outcome, then its gone. I don't know why, they just go and then i cry for joy. Some may call it Bi polar disorder. Its a true blessing and a curse, one understands at his core, our true emotions are for the best of us. while we may want to die, our suffering is truly our parallel of our joy, and in our parallels there is always the brightest lightness in the deepest most frightening dark. and its what makes it worth while, to cry from joy and fear, at the same time. I am truly a puzzle for even myself. When i thought i could know who I am, the next i don't, but it makes me happy. the change of things, while the speediness of life is wonderful, I must take my time to relax for the day, like when I write. To love without expecting reward. I wish i could always do so, love, and just keep it. but one must understand in modern society as well as our minds, we must sometimes give up what we love, to succeed in today. I don't know if I'm alright with it, but i cant say much about it. While the man is the captain of his own soul, I would appreciate mine, alone. I see it somewhere in nature, hopefully some day, where I can write about the golden fields which sway in the clandestine wind that crosses my mind, to then feel it atop the bluest sky staring down below my feet, at clouds, and feel the loving sun, upon my face, and just laugh of Ecstasy. I know no fonder memories, true heaven is sitting up there, alone, laughing at what you consider the world, the blue which could fill a thousand paintings and yet, never be as pure as when you had seen it there. My minds eye cannot even remember how perfect the sky is, and my endeavor one day to just stare at it from space. the blue which is pure, holds this thing that I cannot thank enough. For my life. Just to be here, I know not who to thank for this blue. But thank you, if you read this someday. I hope they understand, one day. I hope they could at least let me sit and write all day.