The reason I haven’t been on tumblr much is I’m tired of seeing the same shit,
The same generic pictures of chicks with tattoos in their underwear
The same posts about self mutilation and depression
The same images of characters from fandoms I don’t care for.
I’ll probably be unfollowing some of people. I’ll be looking in depth for blogs a little more personally stimulating for me.
I also haven’t been posting writings on here, mostly because they’ve become more raw and personal to me. I feel it’s only right to keep them in my journal and not put them online; especially for a bunch of people that don’t know me or really care to, and who read poetry by expressive emotional kids on a daily basis. Not trying to sound that I need validation, when the time comes for something I want to show the world again I’ll let you know. Things have been changing pretty rapidly like they always have. At this stage things are starting to feel a little less sticky, but it’s always tricky.
Writing, the only way I make sense of myself. The clear waters of my unbridled verbal communication. The velvet landing for my loneliness.
I wish nothing but bliss, love and light that never again you’ll have to miss.
I wish for white, faded from the grey confusion that encourages anxiousness to fade to plaguing black sickness.
I wish for one soul, to recognize your intricacies, and your divinities; that it loves you above worldly emotions and practicality. In that I hope it shares with you, and that you are intertwined in devotion and depth.
I wish for release; from the tight cage around your acceptance of surrender. The one that presses your lungs and makes your heart violently contract.
I wish for peace; your thoughts paradoxical and suspended but your certainty in heart is safe on the ground.
I wish for growth; that there will be a time when you’re able to believe you will be mutually felt the way you feel, mutually seen the way you see, mutually heard the way you hear, and that it’s no fault of yours when you are not.
I wish for healing; for the light to birth focus, for the focus to burn mistrust.
I wish for empathy; for understanding to bury agony.
I wish for presence; for the haze to dissipate when you finally awake.
I wish for honesty; for communication to not be restricted to only the tongue.
I wish for consciousness; for radiance to reassure you.
Its 11:39 am and I’ve just woken up from probably my favorite dream I’ve had.
I was back at my grandmas house in Colorado, its August and I’m returning home with her from a movie. I notice theres two hooded figures on the street. One is shorter than the other, I get an uneasy feeling. Then notice there is a car following us. I tell my grandma to keep driving as were almost to the house and I don’t want them to know where we live, but she pulls into the drive way anyway. As were walking to the door I see the car pass and the two cloaked creatures standing directly across the street in front of the house. We go inside and lock the doors, I peek through the shades and the creatures now look lifeless, with skeleton masks on their faces.
This is when I start hearing things in the car port on the side of the house. I look through that window and see shadows low to the ground near the car. I close the shades and see the figures move to the other side of the house walking towards the backyard. At this point I’m getting agitated and run to the back bathroom where I stick my face out the window and scream “I’ll call the fucking police” as a skeletal face is staring directly at me. Along with about six kids in halloween costumes I’ve never seen before. One of them is Jeff the killer, he points at the sky and says something about horses. Referring to the horseman of the apocalypse. The littlest shadow reaper un masks herself, a girl about 12 years old; and says “happy halloween jarah” all I could manage to think and ask is “how do you know my name?” And like a lot of dreams, I wake up..with a lot of unanswered questions. But I’m able to pass out again and start where I left off. One of the kids cuts his leg, and is pulled into my bathroom through the window to get cleaned up. I talk to the kids who say they do this every year, even though its August. Two of the girls say they got my name from a cousin of mine in Ohio, I call him up amazed. But in my dream he’s not exactly a real person but a claymation version of himself. I chat, it turns dark and I decide to call big bird and tell him how fucked up everything is that happened..the giant muppet from sesame street would get it. He’s warm and a good listener. I wake up from a phone call from my grandma at 11:30 before writing this..and as I’m finishing I hear sirens. I’m not exactly sure what kind they are but it isn’t a police or fire siren, these sirens are eerie and only go off once and awhile. They’ve always reminded me of something you’d hear during a mass devastation, like an apocalypse.
I’m so tired of being tired. Tired of the relief I can’t seem to find, the lucid nightmares that get blurred with my conscious mind. The paranoia that’s eating me alive, the last of my love on which monsters dine. All my words I can’t clarify, all my chaos that’s chained inside. The growing weight of something without any light, tired of the crippling worlds I visit at night.