I'd thought I'd given up on writing on here; sick of baring my soul to the unsuspecting (nonexistent) reader - thinking, maybe, maybe I'm okay with keeping it all in my head. But then, days pass, weeks pass, and suddenly my body can't contain it all anymore. I'll sit down/lie down/stand up/go to class/ get on a bus/go for a walk/take a shower and all I'll be doing is thinking. Thinking about nothing, everything, everyone and nothing. I don't know. That was shit and didn't make sense, but the sheer process of putting my fingers against this keyboard and writing unashamedly is slowing my heartbeat and steadying my hands. It's giving me clarity, and if clarity is anything like what John Mayer proclaims it to be - I want some of that.
There are so many things that have changed in the last few months. I feel like one of those caterpillars, but I haven't quite become a butterfly (nor do I ever think I will be) - but I'm just shedding my skin - like larva? I dunno, something rejuvenating like that. Mind my ignorance guys but I feel small as well, so I thought an insect would be a useful metaphor. Haha. It's not a pity-me-guys use of small either, I feel good small - reality small. Small in the sense that I know how inconsequential I am at this moment, but I'm pleased about it. Pleased that things are kinda just the way they are; and the world is cruel and horrible, but also so great in so many ways. And if I let it, it will love me. I'm gonna say it, the world hasn't hated me, and I resent myself so much for hating it all those times in the past (in here, and in my head). It's not the world. It's not fate. It's my perspective, and I'm so glad that as time goes on I have more control of that. It's been peaceful.
It's freeing, actually. It's like a new lease on my misunderstanding of my anger and fear and all the things that came with the people and things in my past. Not that I regret my past either, not by any means. Gosh knows that without it I wouldn't be in this frame of mind at all - or with the people I'm with. I love my life. I love my freedom, and the mistakes that come with that. I love my inherited flaws and the ones I've fabricated as well. Not always, but sometimes I do - because it means I can love yours too. I love being able to study, and having the capacity to think and think and think and never stop.
I love love. SO, so, so, so, so, so much. And I've never apologised for it before, but now I proclaim it. With that comes my infatuation with passion that crosses so many lines of morality I can't even count the incidents now. But at what cost? Conflict, yes. Pain, yes. but - Growth? definitely. Change? of course. Did I need that change? - yes. It took me so long to figure out how necessary change was. I was timid; scared of letting go of what I know and knew and wanted to be, but nothing was needed more for my life, for my outlook of myself and everything I amount to.
So yes, that is my thought. Passion. Change. Clarity.
It feels so much better than whatever game I was playing before.
