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Diaryland
More free-writing crypticness 2004-12-25 @ 10:52 p.m.
I am a dreamer. I always have been. I always will be. Even as I've forced myself to become such a practical and realistic person, obsessed with responsibilities yet hypocritical in that my worries actually make me less effective. Long ago, ages and aeons in the time of my mind, I used to float freely across skies and sunsets. I used to burn and freeze and scillantate with so much passion gathered in from life. It was not necessarily a good passion, but it was passion none the less. Life, terrible and wonderful, used to eat me alive.
I was never like the other boys, and I never will be. A lot of that had to do with being gay, but even beyond that, I think I projected myself into a kind of identity that transcends how most people think of themselves. I don't say that to be egotistical - I am not better than anyone else on this planet. I just, somehow, stumbled upon a rabbits hole and feel down in. I've never come out of it, and I don't think I would want to. Eden was a blissful ignorance - we can't go back to it because we can't pretend we don't have the knowledge of good and evil. All we can do is to seek out the wisdom that brings good out of such a painful awareness. When we bow to that Wisdom, God will let us eat of the Tree of Life in New Jerusalem.
I used to daydream constantly. Both to escape and for the sheer joy it could bring. Strange and sad how my ability has now become the means where I anticipate infinite horrors I see myself falling into. Its become a habit now, maybe even a chemical reaction that is difficult to control. It takes a lot of effort on my part to stay positive. So often I wonder, in my cold rational way, what I am trying to stay positive about, or for.
I used to hang out in forests, stare at mountains and stars, and walk aimlessly for miles. I write about this now because things in my life recently have been taking me back. Syncronicities and dreams and events that make me remember who I used to be - and still am, underneath it all.
I refuse to give up. But my own mind is really my worse enemy. It tortures me often, and I have trouble getting it to stop because part of me knows its true, and its angst is legitimate. I'm so confused, hurt, scared and angry, and at the same time I am ashamed and embarassed that I feel this way when I am surrounded by such luxury. Given things that many are never given to enjoy. Why can't I make myself happy? Why can't I be thankful and stay positive? Why do I always end up sinning in one way or the other?
"Details in the Fabric" - May 31, 2009
Not So Quick Questions - April 6, 2009
The Morning Stars - Lords of the 15 - April 9, 2009
Sincerity and Faith in Magic - April 10, 2009
Not So Quick Questions (2) - April 14, 2009
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