Monday, January 26, 2009

Misery Can Kill the Soul and Ravage Its Sanity

Misery can kill. And it is killing me. Tearing my chest apart, my heart into pieces...
How can I feel this way, when I love myself for who I am?
And how can my insides feel like a barren wilderness, when I know I have so much to offer to my friends, my family, the world?
Maybe it's the love I never received from a father who never cared...
Of that I am sure, but... could it be for another reason as well? I don't know...
What I want to know, though, is why when I decide to finally cut myself free of him (several times) that soon afterwards an event occurs that causes the scars in my heart to be torn open and the savage agony to be felt anew?
How can he have such power over me? I know what others would say, "He doesn't have the power or the control. You are the one giving him your power, power over your emotions."
Okay, yeah. So? That I know. What I need to know is how to change it. When I know that, I will finally be free. I just hope that knowledge comes soon, before it is too late and the hole in my chest consumes me. Then I will be nothingness, a black hole of misery.

But, will it even matter?
This world is made up of billions of people. And each of us, we are just made of dust. That is all we are. So when I have faded, either in misery or through time, there will be nothing left of me. Not even reminders that a woman who felt, who loved, who lived in pain, ever existed.
Not that it matters. If there were others who did remember me, even if I became a very historical person, such as Susan B. Anthony, if I am to fade into dust, then those who remember me will as well. We will all turn into nothing but tiny windblown particles that will have existed for just a moment, to be lost in time.
No, it does not even matter...

The Barren Wilderness That Is The Hole In My Chest

Today's Statement:
I have so much to offer; so why do I feel so barren within?

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Bald Eagles

On my way to campus today, I saw a bunch of huge birds flying and diping through the sky in a group. I looked closer. It wasn't until they flew over me that I saw that they were bald eagles.
Stunned, I watched, twisting in my seat, until I could no longer see them. It's unusual to see just one bald eagle. I saw three!
Three bald eagles, flying together through the sky.
Now, that's a sight to see. I doubt I'll ever see anything quite like that ever again.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

A Difficult Task: Understanding the Afterlife

I want to say this--need to say this.
My uncle "died" November 23rd. But I do not consider him "dead". Yes, his body, the shell that carried his soul, is gone; his soul has been released from its physical cage made of flesh and bones. He is free from pain, and from suffering which he had endured for much too long.
I've been thinking of him lately. I know he's here, that he's watching. I can feel him.

This makes me wonder, if more people had my... sensitivity... would we as a race be so afraid of death? Consider it an end to all things? No, my friends. Death is just the beginning. From there we can see the past, the present, the future--all occurring at once--and we won't be afraid for there is nothing to fear. We just are. There, in that state, there is only the now, not the later, or the earlier, just this one moment in time that we are experiencing.
But that is just beyond the curtain, something we can't see--most of the time. Some people can see beyond the thin barrier, and what we see we almost never understand. That, therefore frightens us, and can give us more fear about our afterlife rather than a comphrensive understanding which will eradicate all confusion, hesistation, and terror.
Hey, I'm just like anybody else: I see many things that frighten me, mostly because I don't understand them, others because I know there is no way to protect myself from them. I mean, locked doors don't hinder those beings.
I believe the Dawn of a New Age is upon us, I truly do. It will be a while in coming, but when it does, I know many doors will open, possibilities will bloom for our species and the planet as a whole. Life as we know it will change.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Solitude in Conceptual Awareness

Can a tiny fissure, a tear, a rip in your heart, in your soul, ever be healed?
Yes, a heart can be broken. And that break may be healed, some way, some how.
But what if a heart isn't broken? What if it's just fractured?
I wonder... Could it be healed? (To answer this question, step out of the box of preconceived conclusions. Don't follow step after step. Skip a few. Take a leap forward to find the answer, then go back to the theory and look at the result with newly opened eyes.)
Or could a heart be torn apart so violently by someone's actions, someone's deeds, that it can never be fixed? Would it be better to fall into a consciousness of nothingness, that is to say, a silent and willing release? Rebirth would be a better word, actually.
Could someone go on living when there is no life to live?
Is the dawning of a new day the death of the prior? (Or does it just meld with other days of past to resound as one moment, united by time?)

This is what consumes my mind at times.
Can you see why it is hard for me to connect with many people?
How can I talk to people, completely give myself over to them, if my musings are far more... What is the right word? Not advanced. Not scintillating.
No, I don't think there is a word for it.
Ha, how stupid of me. There isn't a word to describe what can't be described. How could there be?

I am resilient; I am strong. I know this. So why do I feel the way I feel at times? Why do I contemplate things, certain concepts most people can't even conceive? I guess the only answer here is that there is no answer. Some things are just meant to be contemplated, not really known.

Ah, Life's Mysteries.


I will remember this day for the rest of my life.
Maybe not the date, maybe not the exact time, but the moment... This moment will never be forgotten.

I wish I could go into detail about this, but I can't. I can't... I can't tell you.
This feeling, this aching pain in my heart... it's not something anyone could ever understand. Not until they feel it themselves.
How can tears, something so small, feel so heavy, so hot?
Is it a psychological perception? The thought that they are heavy and that they burn--is it because your heart is heavy and consumed with sorrow? Is this heaviness racking my heart due to a release of burdening emotions?
I don't know.
And... and I don't think I want to.

Sometimes, just sometimes, things are better left unknown... unsaid... forgotten...


I had a realization today. An epiphany.
After years of being told I’m ugly, something to be despised, I believed it. I believed that. I believed that no one could ever love me because I was so disgusting to look at. After years of an abusive father, and endless days of being tormented by school bullies, I thought myself as not worth the price of air, to be lower than the scum on someone’s shoe.
It’s taken me a long time—a very slow process—to change that belief.
It started out slowly, little pieces of glowing disbelief, here and there. Once every great while I would look in the bathroom mirror—in the middle of getting ready for school or some such thing—and stop in amazement. I would see somebody I didn’t recognize. Who was this olive-tone skinned, vibrant chocolate-brown haired, flush-pink full lipped, intelligent eyed girl’s reflection in the mirror?
Yes, it started slowly. Only in the last couple of years has this feeling, this thought, this belief began to bloom, expand, proliferate. Instead of it happening once every couple of months, it began to happen once every month, then several times a month. Now, it seems as if every time I look in that silver-coated reflective surface I see what I thought never existed. My beautiful soul and my intelligent mind were not hindered by an ugly physique—which is all most people look at—but enhanced by a beautiful body and an even more beautiful face.
And now, now I whenever I think of this, this transformation, I can feel a warm golden glow inside my chest. A better way to describe this is to imagine a black hole, an empty space full of self-loathing and insecurity. But, suddenly there’s a little shining star, the size of a grain of sand, just materializing out of nowhere. That little star dispersed light into the darkness, creating a glimmer of hope, a minute trickle of the dawning of the inherent truth that could only be found in time and within one’s essence. With time, that little sparkling star grew to become a radiating sun, bigger than a sizable mango. A flickering, flowing sun that burns with self-satisfaction—not pretentious, but a sense of confidence, of trust, of certainty in oneself—and hope and love and above all, serenity. Serenity in being true to myself, in being content with who I am, and being unafraid to walk my own path. That is what this epiphany has laid out before, and within, me. In my mind’s eye, I can see this sun revolving in my chest; I can feel—when I focus—the heat, the warmth, and the intense yet gentle feeling of being whole, at one with the Universe, at one with myself.