Posts tagged Creative Writing
Posts tagged Creative Writing
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Love is often feared because it is constant. There is a thrill about falling, because in order to let yourself fall you’re forced into faith, into believing that there is someone waiting to catch you. But the fall is endless. Instead the thrill is maximized with every passing moment, every endeavor, every new step towards the profession of love. The first touch, the first time you hold hands. When you start to explore each other, inside and out, the tingling sensation that ripples across your skin, the grasping tug at your heart. Love is about conquering fears. Allowing yourself to trust, leaving yourself vulnerable, opening up the parts of yourself you’ve spent a lifetime barricading. It’s leaving behind insecurities, lowering inhibitions and swallowing the bitter taste of passion without feeling the need to cringe. Love is accepting faults, not theirs, but your own. The understanding that perfection is imperfect, forever is merely a lifetime and broken hearts are inevitable. It’s the conscious decision to become powerless, putting your life in the hands of someone else because otherwise you’d be shattered. It’s getting to know yourself, peeling off the mask you’ve been hiding behind and allowing the truth to rush over you. Love is an endless experience.
Where has my mind gone? Seems I’ve lost touch with my own sanity. It’s been quite some time since I last remember the tease of a lucid rationale. You see, I used to be a writer. At least, I used to call myself one. There was a time when the words would flow through my fingertips. Every letter inching its way onto a screen, one right after the other, forming words and making sense of some kind of emotion. Now these words are lost. Or maybe I’ve used them all up. Maybe I’ve overdosed. I used to get high off my own mental jargon, a soliloquy of inner turmoil so suffocating it made my heart bleed. I used to fiend off emotions that lay trapped between text and context, finding salvation in a written form of creed. Now these words are baited by the swift breeze of being, of living a life so tainted with busy, it becomes work. Writing has become a chore, an agonizing servitude. What once was passion has turned into a fading euphoria.
“You know, when you get old, in life, things get taken from you. I mean, that’s… that’s… that’s a part of life. But, you only learn that when you start losin’ stuff. You find out life’s this game of inches, so is football. Because in either game - life or football - the margin for error is so small. I mean, one half a step too late or too early and you don’t quite make it. One half second too slow, too fast and you don’t quite catch it. The inches we need are everywhere around us…”
With age comes wisdom. Today, I am wise enough not to trust, prudent enough to embrace the wall I’ve spent my whole life building. I’ve learned to depend on my instincts and mask nervous butterflies with resilience. If I counted age by the number of friends at my side, I would be infantile. If these years were chapters, I’ve spent too much time writing of anger. Every year is a reminder that life is too short to dwell and just long enough to enjoy the moment. Today, I am wise enough to love more than hate, surrounding myself with others lucky enough to love as much as I do. To those who circle in and out, your time will come to stay. I’ve learned timing is everything and everyone is on their own schedule. If I counted age by the number of lovers I thought I had, I would be ancient. If I counted the ones that mattered, I would have only one birthday to celebrate. If these years were lyrics, I haven’t spent enough time listening to the love songs. With age… comes gratitude.
"Mirrors" -Justin Timberlake
"I don’t wanna lose you now
I’m lookin’ right at the other half of me
The vacancy that sat in my heart
Is a space that now you hold
Show me how to fight for now
And I’ll tell you baby, it was easy
Comin’ back into you once I figured it out
You were right here all along…”
My heart is soaked in defeat, drowning in this magnitude of self-doubt and loathing. Feels like I’ve fallen too far out of the reach for kindness and into a disparity amongst souls as lost as mine. I’m overwhelmed with un-triumphant battles in a war too trifling to win. This life is expressionless, devoid of meaning and lacking passion. Where does one find the will to live when it is lacking of will to start?
'When I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants, and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible, but in the end they always fall.' -Mahatma Gandhi
My thoughts and prayers are with the families of those lost in Newton, Connecticut.
It’s been awhile since I last wrote something meaningful. I used to write almost everyday. Here and there, little notes just to keep the creative side of my mind in motion. But lately, it seems like I’ve lost the will to write. I’ve been so focused on fitting the pieces of my life together, I guess I’d rather act on it than write about it.
Today, on the other hand, I feel like I need to filter my soul just a little bit. Put my life down on paper (tumblr text), I guess you could say.
So let me update you on me:
I’m in a good place emotionally. Taking some chances, stepping out of my own boundaries. I’m in love with life, in a way, for the first time.
I’m starting a new job, a better one, with more opportunities and room for growth that is right up my ally: advocating for social justice. I have new ambitions, or rather revived ones, and I’m taking the necessary steps forward to achieve those goals.
I’m in a wonderful relationship with someone who adds meaning to my life. Someone who believes in me and knows my true self, inside and out. Someone I can be myself around and not feel scrutinized or judged. He sees right through my walls. Together, I know we will do great things.
There are down days, of course. Tis life. But they fail in comparison to all the good days, the happy days, the cup half full kind of days. And it’s nice to be able to appreciate that and not feel so apologetic.
“It is never too late to be what you might have been.” - George Eliot