I lost my muse. My source of inspiration that dropped its gaze. I acknowledge that desire for peace and I’m thankful for the connection. I am made of many things, but I became me in your presence.
Every word feels like a breach sometimes, like places I’m not supposed to be. Yet all of these places I know. Like a map in my heart that’s never been drawn. I have delicate spaces to describe so eloquently…so why do I not? Why do I stop? Fear or reprisal? I’m so well equipped to just let them go. This is not a torrent of destruction this is my ebb, my flow. This is how tenderness feels.
I’m trying to shake this thing, but it goes a little deeper than a stain removing surface wash. In essence it’s who I am and I am blessed that the feelings I have are not just projections from a thousand poets.
I remember at first glance thinking “there is no one this beautiful” and that thought remains in my soul. There is no thought deeper or more honest.
I have inappropriate thoughts at all the wrong times, but isn’t that the point of inappropriate thoughts? I feel the trickle of heat running down my spine, every flesh covered vertebra so savagely defined. Behind closed doors I am masterful, the commander of my own ocean. It’s my navigation that fails me.
I love it when the signal fades. When connections with strangers are neither pretentious nor a means to an end. The pack mentality has no place in humanity, the walls we’ve built are all self made. Conscious choices.
How refreshing the air feels without this, this constant need for a distraction from life. When immersion isn’t flicking a switch and gazing at a screen. Robots by our own design, blank and blinkered.
I could sit here forever just soaking up these moments. Some fleeting, some etched in my soul, but none of them on demand.
The table by the window is my favourite place. The sunlight bounces off of the whitewashed walls until it sets. My skin is tight from the sea and the heat…..I don’t want to wash it off. Places have a habit of making their impression, like they know you need just to be. If only for a while.
It’s not like I can forget all the shit, but the shit will still be there. Perspective and breathing are all I need right now, the realisation of that is cathartic enough. The timely reminder of the Trainline app woke me this morning. Some journeys are supposed to be missed and plans can’t be held together with hindsight.
My head is clear. My heart still aches a little, but as with all memories it’ll find its rightful place and ease with time. Neither rushed nor hidden away.
The ocean is vast.
Beautifully quiet morning. The sun projects dappled shapes through my window and the warmth of the day begins to shine.
The air smells so clear after last night’s rain. My pjs bottoms too long drag on the wet grass and my toes exposed are covered by delicate droplets.
Not long now until the world wakes and reaches for its phone. That’s why these silent times are so precious and the mind becomes empty without them.
Sometimes those apologies that fall on deaf ears do so for a reason. It was wasted, unnecessary. When that watertight excuse becomes overused. Over time it dawns on you that you were right.
Don’t feel like a fool though. Some people just can’t help themselves. History repeating itself. It’s not your fault.
I’ve put on a bit of weight at long last. I think it’s been hard because I eat healthy food, but I think the gym has helped and I’m filling my clothes better now.
I’m going on holiday next week. So looking forward to some sand between my toes.
I need some passion in my life. Something real, not just from a memory of how I used to feel. Built to last not destined to fade fast.
When words spoken are not just regurgitated lines for every replaceable face you’ll ever meet. Only everlasting sparks will do.
I’m not searching, but neither will I deny a chance encounter from filling my head with the kind of dreams that leave me wanting more.