I’m a hobby blogger, with a few occult truths under his belt, and secrets, that people didn’t know could be secrets, locked firmly in his chest. Where nobody cares, or wants them to be untrue, or gone altogether.
My true story has had me directed and shunned into corners of society that I GET to be alone in. In these times, my body flashes a brief, bright light of “hallelujah”. My society’s reaction to these Truths, is that they are repugnant to them. Right now I’m on a form of medication that has brought back a feeling of “snug” reality. It also, brings with it, immeasurable levels of nerve-burning anxiety and a level of agitation that can flare into rage.
I am unused to these feelings. Through Jan and Feb, I felt there, i felt present, I was living in the Truth. But to whom? Was it all locked away or distorted, out of selfishness? Have my eyes been painted with false perceptions to help break the cycle, slipping on pools of tears and shed blood?
By default, I don’t experience depression. I don’t have this feeling. Just as I don’t hold grudges, and would rather learn a hard lesson and leave someone alone, rather than seek revenge.
I doubt if anyone reading this will ever fully understand what it is, (or, maybe was) like, to share a SOUL with someone. That doesn’t mean sharing emotions, or things as shallow as that. I think fro early on, we had different views on what it was to love. For whatever’s sake, this is the way the cards were dealt. I am really just doing my best to live with this in my heart. When they grieve, over, or for me, that is something I also feel. Of that, it has almost been internally proven to me.
Welcome, march, WELCOME LATE MARCH. I’ve made it this far, on a date I thought the person writing this would be long dead. But the hands of fate seem to have some purpose for me yet, or aren’t done with the type of true fun we’ve been having, for better and for far, far worse (to my dismay).
Convictions, things so especially true to you that you can’t let others tamper with them, are quite like the BIOS settings on a PC that only you know the password to. I strongly, strongly suggest, never tampering with these without due cause, and full knowledge of the effects.
But here is something to hold: in “mudslide March”, as I call it, something ancient, something severe, and something i thought would never end, became quenched.
This statement on how I feel should be enough for those who understand the truth that poets speak, to have an attitude of “fair enough, Richard”, without needing an x-ray or further proof of my internal life.
The Humble Rock Dove 