I hope you stay beautiful, baby

For now, I'm just taking pleasure in a song. I don't care what anyone else thinks of the song, or what they would think of my listening to it. Right now, right this moment, it's mine. So is this gentle happiness. This compassion for myself. There is softness in my soul right now.
Music is such a gift.
My soul has been ugly lately. A poor pathetic creature, wartorn and empty. Scrambling through the dust of fallen time for survival. Perhaps not cruel, perhaps not hateful or mean. Sometimes those souls are ugly. Sometimes they are beautiful underneath and only need unearthing.
Sometimes like mine, they are just faded. Drained of beauty, the beauty of life.
They forget how to speak, so enraptured with survival they become. Stripped of their luxuries, their friends. They wander, driven by self pity to find a place to lie down and hide from life so they will not feel so ugly next to it.
I have some compassion for my soul right now. These past few days it has begun to remember that it can speak. It has begun to breathe the sunlight in and see the sky. It has begun to feel joy again. It has decided to wait and see. Not to futiley run from the dawn that will chase it every day. It gazes hopefully at the amber waves and silver reflections hovering in blue infinities. What beauty will this new day bring?
What challenges will be conquered?

I am impatient for this change to be solidified. I want to be better, not just feel like i'm floating for a while, knowing that the whirlpool may suck me down again without warning.
I may be swimming steadily for shore, but who knows what obstacles may tug me back, or what delays I may find. All I know is that the shore is visible, and so are many paths to it. Even better, there is one path; straight, narrow, difficult and tiring. But it will get me there without fail if I can stick to it.

Can I make it? I guess it's up to me, and my friends who are there to help keep me on track.

The best part, is that once I'm out, marching through the hills and valleys to come in my life, the next pool I come to will be easier. I'll probably even be able to get me and my soldiers across safely.

And E Goes "Oh Shit"

This wonderful book titled Expendable I read not too long ago, has this explorer corps. These people are the expendable members of society. They are sent to dangerous new planets on exploration missions. Often times they die, when the plant they were looking at turns out to be a giant carnivore and is swooping down to eat them, for instance. The last words they usually utter over the comm headsets is "Oh Shit"
Therefore, when someone is about to die and then does in that manner, one calls it "going oh shit."
That's what I feel like right now. I have this feeling like nothing in my life is something I have a hold on. It's like no matter how hard I try, everything I've worked for is being cut down in front of me and somehow it's my fault too.
Last chances that come too soon.
Too many failures stacked up to try and fix anything, new or old.
I really truly begin to hate myself now.
I'm freaking out. I had to go hide in the library to cry. If anything else goes wrong today I don't know if I'll be able to handle it. I'm tempted to run home and hide away until things get better, but I know now that hiding like that just multiplies your pains. Maybe once or twice you can hide away with no ill consequences. Now everything is exponential and I can't even begin to unmuddle this. The small positive steps I made in the past couple days brought such hope and yet one wrong thing brings me crashing down.
What do you do when everything brings you pain?
So much of the feeling that even though I'm getting out of the emotional pit of depression and murdered motivation and terrifying anxiety, it's too late. And nobody cares that all my failures came from being sick. So I've had my chance.

I guess nobody said that chance would be fair.

Tug of war

I wonder if we just get tired.
You know how your body ages. Your cells, while being continually replaced, regrown, repaired, they get imperfect. Sometimes one comes off the production line, just a little off, maybe the maker was a little distracted and didn't pay attention...and the quality control manager... well, maybe he was just a little tired that day.
So an imperfect cell joins the ranks, toiling day by day, putting up with the crap we put into our bodies. Struggling under the load. So one day it breaks. It cries and fails, not understanding why it can't keep up with it's peers. But it hardly recognizes any of them anymore, they're all getting replaced with new cells, ones that sometimes slip by quality control.
And when that little cell dies... well maybe the sweeper cells didn't feel like doing their whole route today, leaving his body to rot there where he died, only to be sandwiched in by the replacement, never to be retrieved, just decomposing and kinking up the works.
It seems that discipline is the solution to everything. Yet only in our breaking of discipline do we find the most beautiful things in life.
The color of the sunset when you should have been studying.
The scent of your lover's hair when you should have been spending time furthering your goals.
The masterpiece you created when you decided to blow off work because inspiration was beating down the door.

Some may say that water never tastes so delicious as when you've just crawled across a desert.

That cheesecake tastes ten times better if you haven't had any desert in a year.


It's hard to say.
Yes, having cheescake every day may make it intolerable.
But, what about once a week. Is it just as delicious?
I find most things have an even shorter limit of refresh.
A hot bath? 10 hours.
Good food? Just a couple.
Pasta? 5 minutes.

Oh this tug of war.
To discipline and indulgence.