Archive for the ‘reflection’ Tag

metamorpheus in action.

Thursday, June 15th, 2017

Hello world. It all appeared to me in a dream. I wish to write again. I spoke to my mother about this yesterday. Having a dreadful fear of people rejecting my writing, I remained stoic and did not publish anything for the longest of times. I still have ideas running rampant in my brain, yet the fear engulfs them. However, to this I say no longer. The human mind is a wonderful thing. Each person has a complexity in themselves that is shared with no one else. It’s quite exciting to think about! Different stories, experiences, and personalities are what make us human. Why not share mine? I partially had writer’s block, but that just happens when I have too many thoughts in my head. As an update on my life, I consider myself stable now. Yes, there is still remnants of anxiety still clogged up in my chest. It makes me want to express myself in a frenzy. It’s times like those where I wish I took contemporary dance. Something about the way they express themselves makes me calm down. It doesn’t stop me from trying nonetheless. My therapist tells me I should not be anxious in regards to going back to Columbia. She is true. If the school tells me to wait a while longer then I will. I can only get stronger. Pen is mightier than the sword. I wish to write in my future. I have a passion for it. There is some hidden thrill in watching the flow of my consciousness spill onto the screen. I never know what can become of it. Let me educate you on the ravishing beauty that is the universe. Each planet appearing has if it were constructed by sculptors in the Renaissance. However, what a catch! It appears as if some are not solid, but milky terrains of gaseous elements of our universe. It livens the deep void of the universe, and it’s the reason I wake up every morning. In hopes that I will one day see someone’s eyes light up as they see the heavens above like I do. I am not quite sure what direction this blog may end up going, as I pursue many interests. Nonetheless, be aware of what is to come. I am truly healing.


“well you should be content with yourself, why are you sad?”

Wednesday, January 14th, 2015

If there is a time for the big comedown to happen, this time is not the best of them.

Yet I ask myself whether I am content with my life, and ironicaly I can say I am. However, explain to me why I find myself too hostile, and times of sorrow become part of one’s routine far too often. Why do my mother’s screams feel directed to the dead centre of my body, even though she no longer looms over my bespeckled head? I stand on top of a mound of self accomplishment, and yet I find myself kicking the ground before me. I look too far ahead and I am hopelessly distraught. My heart feels like a chamber for some heavy lead that has replaced the functuality of the heart and has left it to the purpose of being deadweight. Constantly, on the hour, the tick and tock of a cry that I have yet to calm down sits inside of me. A meloncholia of the darkest sort, and I have begged for it to come away until a later time. But when do the tides of nature ever speak to the poor famrer who weeps at its shore? It seems that progression in age only summons up another and another worry that would make a poor man’s scientist look for a deity. Yet I have none, for I lost faith for the pendulum in the reminants of a childhood long ago. Is it of nature for the poet to be surrounded in circumstances of gratitiude and still find it plausible to stand at the edge of a well whose bottom has been reached by many other writers, in search of finding someone who can cause permanent sunshine of the mind. Or perhaps they were caught in their reflection, and threw themselves inside with vainful disposition and dying aspiration? Until that answer surfaces, I stare into a space where my teardrops become grand submarines in search of a purpose in their journey. Surely they have gone farther than their conjurer, at the stake for their own accusation of treason of the soul.

dawn of a new empire

Wednesday, January 7th, 2015

The last poem i wrote was about what I thought was love.


However, it was far from it. It was far from previously envisioned memories of a meeting long ago. Neither was it the false pretense of the grab for something that I couldn’t quite have. Taking a step back from this now I realize that it was nothing short of a masochistic infatuation. One that I created based on the premise that I would have an excuse to fall back on when the lightest parts of my imagination mangled in itself to become nothing short of a terrifying monster. The monster that would soak up my assumptions of myself and the world, and paw and toy with them as I was afraid to ever look in it’s direction. I apologize to you then, as it seems everything that happened was quite unnecessary and quite frankly was all on me. All you offered was the start of a genuine high school experience, the smile to assure one that the future is not at fault. Yet I took it and manipulated the image of you into a facet of a collections I’ve cried when I looked at the mirror and saw nothing but mistake after mistake. Two whole years I managed to continue this facade. It was a cathedral where I could unknowingly go in and believe that falling to my knees would convince you and I that I was of worth. I can say of now that I still become crippled at times and fight to release into the purest air, but it is not for you. It is for I. Because I can grow empires and I am capable of setting fire to the bark that holds a false sense of security on me. The world is nothing perplexing. It is hopelessly drab and gray. I feel it every cloudy morning when the chill touches my cheeks and reflects the attributes of myself and society. I see it when I look down at the black in my coffee and I aimlessly continue to pour creamer in it, hoping somewhat to convince myself that I can continue the day. It’s in the quiet fog that trickles down into my thoughts, and leaves me pale. Yet I am able to continue and keep going forward. Because love is not suppose to be a vessel for self-acceptance. It is the faint reminisce of light at the end of the stone cold tunnel. And as of now, I believe that I have pointed myself in the right direction.