The First Cut's The Deepest

Last week I mentioned to a cousin that with all of the coincidences that consistently and longingly clash into each other's touch that "Once I got my fingertips on that recipe, things went from coincidences to fate".  I feel that this still stays true because all of the things that never meant much to the rest have again elegantly worked wonders when they're allowed to just land where they wish and belong.  

Within a minute of straying from this page, I immediately and surprisingly found a string of words that I can utilize to introduce a reason as to why I even started writing again.  How did I find it? I just lingered where I ended up and simply stopped looking for nothing, until Serendipity slyly said hello again.

"Autobiography begins with a sense of being alone. It is an 

   orphan form"  (John Berger)  

I WAS an orphan because it was my choice to risk losing what I still had after I walked away from those I never wanted to hurt, as my heart endlessly felt pained and alone.  So now, the most that I can do is to show my reality as I saw and felt it and hope that this will suffice for showing that I never wanted to truly leave.  You guys are a home and I didn't want to return if I didn't get 'better'.  I relentlessly believed that I shouldn't taint the girl from the past anymore so I turned my hibernation on high, as I dreamt of the day when everything would feel and be okay again.  The first and last spots of hope in that early point was that I should be just fine in a month or something, so I even asked for my then love of my life to always know that I will try my hardest to piece together the girl that he fell in love with again. But bittersweetly cold and hurtful, what I learned was that I should've persistently believed that I one day would get closer and closer to finding where I lost her, but only with the price of still being too late.  I was too late.  I'd apologize if I could, but as I turned away, I never actually left my bread crumbs that would lead me back to you.  But I will never do any less than keep you as a memory that's never done anything wrong.  So with that, I hope you will follow thru with the happy that's between the fine lines of this:

"You rock, don't ever change" (Lizzie McGuire)

At that point and before, I had honestly hoped like an innocent young girl that I'd one day walk that white aisle to say those two simple words.  But with waves and storms of time,  we began to fade and erode away into nothing more than two strangers that met once on an ordinary day.  This loss dictated my life in so many ways before and after the onset of the disease that plagued the girl that you last saw as the girl you loved who just wanted to fix herself so she could get back to your side and continue ZANY.  She has and still misses the man she will always call her first true love and realest best friend, for he will simply be that for the girl that was my perfect Angel of ~16 months ago.

As if the avalanche of losing friends and loved ones at fall's end wasn't enough, the after shock just had to dance around pouring more salt on my newly cut first wounds as all else that presumed and were to occur took more away from me.  It hurt more than I could have expected so all I wanted to do was at least finish one last thing before I'd give up. I tossed my disintegrating heart, decaying joy, deteriorating smiles, drowned laughter and poisoned hope and they all fell into a hydrofluoric acid, so now I'm here.

May 28th - August 2nd, 2013

'Flickers of Hope'

I knew who I was, until the moments came when I slowly felt as if I didn't know who was in my mind. But she was a scary little thing.

I didn't know how it happened, but my life became someone else's.  She was manipulative and selfish, as her two sided parts waged a war for power.

All wars come and go, but the change resonates as each tinge left is rekindled when least expected. Strict boundaries are more than a rarity for there can't be a way to enumerate the strands of a spectrum and its hazy  shades.

The blurs are so foggy to the point of  uncertainty in even all that's plain solid.  I sometimes say I feel like myself, then assume that that feeling and belief will never let me go again. But I can't seem to ever truly make those strong minute epiphanies stay with me.  As delicate as a feather, as extreme as a strike, I will be still. But till when? And will there even be a time at all?

Questions, always there, but I wish my thoughts were as crisp as they used to be. I've lost the luster I was so happy to have shining through. I don't know if playing the blame game will be easily avoided, since it's so easy to point my fingers at myself and engrain in my beliefs that I've been evermore useless to myself.

Answers, I really must find, even if they're complex in depth and entanglement within no one but me. This war, this war, of the hiding unknowns. Here and there, there and here.'