My life has become a very confusing episode of friends. I honestly do not know how that happened. And things have gotten weird so my friend is now sleeping on a cot in my room. And I feel like reality and the surreal have split, and I’ve fallen into this abject time and space that is a crazed psuedo-Alice-In-Wonderland echo. So I’m going to try and sleep and see where I wake up.


why oh why

is life so grim

what is my purpose

what is my calling

how can i create a better world

when will i see the light ?

when will i see the payoff

when will this pain go away

when will i get to change the world

and am i even trying ?

treading close to the shore

unable to move any further


There is far too much on my mind tonight. I’m wrestling with demons left and right. Memories have come crawling to the surface–talons outspread, wreaking havoc on my security and mind alike.

Inside, I have these secrets.

Things I desperately want to say–stories, I need to tell, but I can’t bring myself to do it, for the fear of a fallout, humiliation, fear, and shame. I know if I told my story, some wouldn’t believe me, others would condemn me, and all I really want is some peace, just for a little while. But deep inside of me, I feel like in order to finally accept what has happened, and move on, I need to tell my story. But I don’t want certain things getting back to certain people. But, I want to stop worrying about them. I don’t want to hide from what happened to me anymore. Overcoming what I had to, has changed me, and this pain that I’ve conquered is a part of me now. Lying about it any longer isn’t possible, it is just doing myself a disservice. It’s sacrificing my worth for people who don’t even care or deserve it. I keep these secrets because I want to protect myself and my family…even if it was only one of those secrets that would make them hate me. But why should I protect the people that are responsible? I shouldn’t.

I’m tired of constantly running, constantly trying to fit into some mould–to filter out my unpleasant realities and shocking revelations. I’m tired of running from this part of me. But maybe, instead of shouting it from the rooftops, I’ll work on learning to face it as it comes to me in my day to day life. I won’t lie about it any longer to anyone; I’ll face it, accept it, and start anew.


In the numbing grey, a single seed

Shatters; it self-destructs.

An emerald stem –teeming with life– winds its way unknown

A single stem punctures soft soil; needing, reaching…

The Incandescent; life reborn