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Literature Text
I will always carry the burden of knowing that none shall ever see as I see, that the most beautiful things cannot be shared in words or touch, that thoughts cannot transfer in the meeting of eyes or the sharing of breath, that magic is only a word for fantasy... and yet, there is always a treacherous hope, that one day, by some infinite wonder there will be a moment that can be completed, the brush of two souls merging for a single perfect instant, to feel complete.
I simultaneously wish for autonomy and completion; for individuality and to find my twin. I know that there must be a compromise, and finding it will not be painless. Maybe there is no missing part of my soul, perhaps this feeling of being less that whole will haunt me until the day I die, that it is a purposeless idea born before I could formulate conscious thought. Maybe all this time I have been looking at shadows and mirrors, and waiting for my other self, has been in vain. It’s hard to let go of the desire for something that can never be. Part of the appeal is in knowing that if you hope for something impossible you can’t be let down once you have it and realise it isn’t all you dreamed it would be.
How did I get here again? This familiar worn down path along overused synapses. There’s no one waiting on the other side of a dream. Wake up, and give life your best shot. Bury the feeling deep, because if you let it to the surface it will break what fragile ties you have left.
I simultaneously wish for autonomy and completion; for individuality and to find my twin. I know that there must be a compromise, and finding it will not be painless. Maybe there is no missing part of my soul, perhaps this feeling of being less that whole will haunt me until the day I die, that it is a purposeless idea born before I could formulate conscious thought. Maybe all this time I have been looking at shadows and mirrors, and waiting for my other self, has been in vain. It’s hard to let go of the desire for something that can never be. Part of the appeal is in knowing that if you hope for something impossible you can’t be let down once you have it and realise it isn’t all you dreamed it would be.
How did I get here again? This familiar worn down path along overused synapses. There’s no one waiting on the other side of a dream. Wake up, and give life your best shot. Bury the feeling deep, because if you let it to the surface it will break what fragile ties you have left.
Literature
Italics
There it is again. That rose in the garden. It pierces itself through the ground in the dead of winter. In the beginning it seemed a sweet pale pink. I loved the way it loved me. Especially after I watered and fed it, and fed it and fed it--- And gave my full attention. But for some reason now it comes up a dark magenta. A color and smell so vicious my eyes water and I feel sick to my stomach. And those thorns kill, kill, kill. A continual annoyance. I'm afraid to go near it even though it throws me a bone once in awhile. Tip toeing around the garden is no protection. It pleasures itself stabbing its way into my side. It’s the cattiest little flower. Deliberate and hurtful. What used to be pretty to me is now ugly. Even the hornets don’t like it. That’s saying something. ©LRO 2021
Literature
reflective
One minute you will stand watching prior moments drift past your fingertips on kite strings. You will think, I could not have known such things would fly away. You will think, I was happier tied to such fragments of time. You will think, My heart sang for lack of knowledge. My heart leapt for ignorance. Witness now--the mouth of a tunnel, think then on the other end. Close your eyes and fall backward, into the shoes of former selves, envying their blindness to this present. Linger. Then lean back into reality-- your future shouldn't need to wander forward alone.
Literature
Between Light and Dark
Suffering in the rain, while dancing under the stars. I know light will break through; that light will cast a shadow, but shadows give shade on a hot summer day, so I'll stand in that light and let the shadows fall. Love in the light and love in the dark, knowing both will come and go. The little stars twinkling in the sky, reminding me how alone we are in this cold, vast ocean makes love harder in darkness and light, knowing forever isn't coming and now is all we have—now is everything we have, and in the presence of now, I don't feel so alone. Rain pours and stars shine, as Now wraps a scarf around my neck, and in the midst of suffering, we dance on together.
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Continued from a post centred around identity that I found myself writing on Facebook, I decided it wise to edit the last few paragraphs out and re-route them here where you can choose to read or not, rather than have everyone I know burdened by reading to the conclusion of my trail of thought.
I still feel like there's something missing, part of me I haven't found yet, like a twin separated at birth.
I still feel like there's something missing, part of me I haven't found yet, like a twin separated at birth.
© 2013 - 2024 VioletRaven
Comments4
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maybe all this time I have been looking at shadows and mirrors, and waiting for my other self. That's the funny bit. Accepting your own skin. There is no other you (except in your own mind who you want to be) But we still keep searching for who we need to be. It's out there just not far away or a long long time ago. It's you right here right now, with all your fear and hopes and love, You are the person who is on this earth who can make a difference. Dreams are only that. Dreams is just another word of wishes. Who you are defines you. And that is the most terrible beautiful thing about life. There are no easy answers just easy decisions it's what you do that makes you amazing work of art or just another piece of trash in the gutter. That's what I think anyway. Life is confusing terrifying and wonderful. We all feel alone but that's so far from the truth, We are together in pain and joy. We just have to go out and make a life worth living.