Overgrown

Creativity ceases to be when I am replaying the same old stories and patterns. I get set in my ways.
But if I remain open minded, willing and honest than I don't have to worry about being closed off from creativity.
I know sometimes I feel more comfort in my easy routine but why would I want to miss out on truly experiencing creativity - there is nothing better...it feels 'more real than this reality.' It's literally living energy. It rejuvenates the dead, old forests inside of my spirit.

Illusions

I'm not the same person I was moments ago and I won't be the same person who dies one day. I'm not the child I once was. It's only an illusion that I live in the past or future. I both exist and don't exist all at once.

Borderline musings

At 25 the ghosts of my childhood still come to haunt me. Even after therapy, which has helped me a lot. When I'm tired, when I'm hormonal & emotional...those ghosts are waiting for me. They touch a pain in my chest. I've been holding my breath since 2003.
My dad's gone. I don't understand what's happening except for this pain in my chest that keeps growing stronger.  Nights are lonely, empty and scary. I cry every night. I always hope someone will come 'save me' from the pain. I guess no one possessed telepathy. Or could see how much I was hurting. 
I know I'm not the only one who suffered. I always knew that. That's always what I reminded myself. Don't be too much or you'll make their pain worse.
When I got compared to Ed, something changed in me. The deepest shame, anguish and rejection washed over me. I became sure then that I was abandoned to the demons within me. Being compared to Ed was like saying, "you're unlovable because of what a terrible person you are." My self image changed that night. My brother and mom didn't disagree with him. No one came to find me or comfort me as I lay outside in the grass with the angry voice in my head finally being right. "I told you, you were nothing." The pain I physically felt to the tips of my fingers...it swelled in every part of me. I felt imprisoned in my own skin. 
I knew then I was truly alone, just me, my horrible thoughts and feelings and the moon shining down on me. I was alone and no one cared. I felt that as a truth which shook me to my core. I already was hurting so badly and felt so alone but I had hope it might change or maybe it wasn't true. I was eventually going to be comforted and reassured like I always had been.
They would tell me I was loved. Right? I am loved right? Not just tolerated?  The self loathing had just begun at that point in my life. But I'm still familiar when that feeling in my chest appears and the dark thoughts return...
But now the voice just tells me to kill myself, to end this misery. I'm ashamed of myself when I feel this way because it's so pathetic.
I don't need anyone to save me...i think there's just this piece of me stuck in a room with that self loathing voice and I wish someone could help me bring her to the light.
I tried to tell Cesar about it but we were in the middle of bad communication and he wasn't listening...he was just trying to end the conversation...so that girl may never be known. A part of me wonders if I have symptoms of borderline personality disorder. I think I'm a lot better than I used to be but I lose control of myself.

Curiosity

To be curious about all of life is such a wonderful trait to possess.
The euphoric feelings and the grotesque realities...what feels like heaven or hell. The illusions, loneliness. Connection. Finding true friendships and losing them. Death...rebirth. Trust and love lost. Mimicry. Making fun of someone and then becoming that person later in life. Awkwardness. All the small details of mundane living that makes every so incredibly amazing. Gratitude, blue skies with ☁ with weird shaped clouds that make my imagination go wild. Shame. Ugliness. Hatred...dark and hurting. It's all there. It's all so much and so little all at once.