Venting

I’ve silenced my voices. The very curious one. the confident one- the stern one and the one that knows who she is and what exactly it is that she wants. Why have I silenced these voices? Why do I hold her back ? The free child within me, she is begging me to let her free. She has been begging as far as I can remember but lately all that there has been is silence. Is she still there?

Who am I? I do not have the slightest clue. I used to be so sure, so full of confidence in the spirit that roams within me but lately I cannot feel her. I have not even picked up my guitar and I can barely bring myself to write tonight.

A part of me is trying not to convince myself that I am ill, I fear I am.  Why do I hide? Why am I so ashamed? Whenever I feel this way I want to escape again, leave and start again, fool myself into thinking that my answers are elsewhere. And truthfully everyone and my own sanity included, keep on telling me that I should stop running away that I need to grow up and I need to learn responsibility but why do I object to it so harshly and why am I waking up every morning and force myself into wearing that coat and those black pumps… why do I force myself to be part of that corporate world? Why did I succumb to this mold that I do not fit a part of ? I’ve once said I would never be a part of and here I am succumbing for comfort for security-foolish! foolish!  I’d rather live for a penny. I could care for less for this body. Let it burn, I am tired of it keeping me down. I am sick. That is the truth, this body is ill and I could roar and scream to it and I want to beat it. Pardon me- I am only venting.

Life is hard so very hard sometimes and I feel so very much alone, I do not have my  comrade nearby, a confidant, not a true friend- perhaps I am being a bit dramatic but I do push them all away.  I push all those I love away.

And so here I lie alone, in bed in my own company filled with the traffic sounds of the restless and sleepless city of Los Angeles where the light reflects off of windows and the sirens moan in the distance. I never imagined myself being so lonely. Am I unloveable?  I wonder what it is I am doing wrong? I do not expect you to have any answers. I do not expect you to be even reading this- but well, what of it now. I may as well not post this. I just need to I don’t know- vent.

Where is she? The girl so full of love and hope. So full of adventure and mystery. Where she saw every rose like a miracle? and where she too felt like a miracle ? I suppose I am tired. I am tired of waiting. I am tired of longing. I am tired of watching all those films in front of me and people passing by with all that I desire. “They are so happy,”  I think to myself. What is that I am missing?

Can I just time travel to those old records of time where all was well and skies were blue and the roses grew? Take me there tonight. Please take me there tonight, in my sleep.

Let me dream tonight. Let me forget tonight and let me feel free.

I am tired.

good night, to this restless heart.

 

yours truly,

 

bluebird

 

 

 

 

 

Life is beautiful

I am feeling a bit under today. Sometimes, it is okay to feel blue. At least I know what I feel is real, and I wouldn’t lie and say, I am chipper all the time. I am not. Most days, I am not. I feel too much, I always have and always will. For those who feel a little blue today its okay.

To feel is beautiful. I wouldn’t trade a song that strikes the soul for nothing, even if it makes me sob. So, if ever you feel blue, know you are not alone. Everybody hurts. Remember the little things.

Beauty is in the little things.

IMG_0099.JPG

I’ve seen a million movies today, every second, every minute of my day is 1,000 words each; every memory, every insight of color or smell is a different movie, each with a separate soundtrack.

I saw the color red and I saw my grandmother’s hands sowing a red dress, perfectly placed under the needle of her sewing machine.

I saw red, and saw the overgrown roses, breathing life, dancing and twirling on the barbed wired fence.

I saw the green hills and heard the sleeping giants under green blankets breathing, and saw their chest rise and fall ever so gently like a peaceful sound asleep baby.

I saw a bee on my windshield and I remembered the small fact that in theory, bees are too large to fly for their undersized wings, and yet they prove physics wrong.  This resilient little visitor was like a golden nugget on my blue hazy day, reminding me that I can fly too.

Remember the little things.

Life is beautiful, even in your bluest of days.

La vie et belle.

With love, always

bluebird