Train of Thought

TITM Note: This entry was written on Saturday November 21 on a train ride back from Indiana.  Well maybe the last half hour stretch of the trip. I thought about maybe revising as I translate my chicken scratch, but doing that hindsight would get in the way.  A moment in time, snared in forever's net.

I put myself out there quite a bit in these entries.  I wear my heart on my sleeve even on the interwebs.  I may look silly or even simpish sometimes, but you get ME nonetheless.  With that said, here we go:

Hurt is disappointing.  It is like losing your virginity. You are never the same once someone has taken your all, your essence  and treated it as nothing.  Spending the days compensating for the void.  Not only that, the walls come soon after. Starting off frail as a tree house, soon they become brick & mortar wonders.  Ramparts that keep you in, and everyone else out.

I looked at my pen as a pick axe.  So much sweat...so much effort...just to get a peek at daylight.  Trapped is the word that comes to mind.  Prayers for an ear to listen go unanswered.  I am a patient/prisoner in an asylum built by my own hands.  A piece of me feels safe, stable.  The other misses the sun.

No one will ever hurt you here

But no one can ever love you here either Jason....

You know good and damn well, your heart has never been of stone ground.  The weeds that come in to choke your life away wished they could be as fruitful.

Cultivate and emancipate.  Free yourself and be yourself (I know it sounds cliche, but whatever works.)  This place has no doors, but the key is within.  Take that step...you will not fall.

I've written from the brink many a days...it's horizon twisted & grotesque.  Most days feeling devoid of anything that made me unique.  A work of art sand blasted into nothing.

I believe in you.  I believe in us.

I know you would say the same.

Leggo My Ego 2:

Okay...Halloween's over.  You can tell your ego to drop the concern bit.  Maybe that's a bit harsh.  Calling your regard faker than Nicky Minaj buttcheeks.  It's insulting to you and our friendship.  I'll call it inflated....like Nicky Minaj buttcheeks (twice in one blog...SCORE!)

Now this is the part where I hit the hornet's nest with a stick

....of dynamite.

Where was all this apprehension months ago?  Oh right there wasn't any because I was still pretty available.  Looking back, I was too available.  Picked up and put down just a quickly.  Heartstrings become puppet strings without you noticing.  The pull...the tug....the control...then back into the box until I'm needed.

IF I'm needed.

It sucks at the bottom of the toy box.  Dank, dark and dusty.  Gives you time to ponder.  Too much time to wonder why they left you here.  In what feels like a slow march towards death.  "For old times sake" is an illusion.  Nostalgia is not a DeLorean, and at the end of the day I'm back at the bottom.  Face down...forgotten.

Until It is desired by someone else.

Then it's "Be careful" "Don't do it this way you'll break it"

Right.

Like you did already.

Now it is renewed...restored...and string free.

This entry does seem a bit harsh.  I've read it quite a few times and I cringe a bit each time.  A stand has to be made.  I will not tolerate the disrespect and the character assassination of someone you barely know.   If I'm willing to step into the crosshairs, isn't that enough?

I'm in love. There's nothing else to it.