On Ignorance

On Ignorance

There was once a light of curiosity which shined from behind your gaze exploring every facet of my heart and seeking out new sources of my affection which went deeper than where you've already been. However, that light has dimmed as you've found barrier after barrier in your way. The wanderlust which was once the impetus for your exploration has started to melt away. The deteriorating force of doubt and deprivation is the nexus which has replaced the fulfilling promise of hope and love. I admit I had hoped to halt your journey at this point. I do not wish for you to go further because I want to retain pieces of myself for fear of your awakening. There is this omniscient fear which looms over the vast expanses of my soul: you're only here because you're ignorant to your own worth. You should be delving into caves of gold not hiking along dirt trails. There is a hope which builds within you and I fear I am not enough to meet your expectations. You deserve to find the treasures which can match the ones that make up who you are. When you finally realize you deserve better I want to at least look at the unexplored caves you haven't touched and have the dignity to say "I wasn't that foolish". I don't halt your journey because I don't love you. Words are like the unyielding tracks along a map; they lead nowhere. I cannot string enough meanings along a sentence to describe what I feel. But if I had to say something,

No one on this earth has ever wanted anything as much as I want you.

It's human nature to hide the dirtiest , most filthiest aspects of your soul. They are trapped behind the enamel bars of that fragile cage. Few and far between are the purely beautiful birds which escape through that barrier. They sing their sweet yet slight song that can only travel so far before it's forgotten. Yet we continue to follow those notes and hope they portray how beautiful we are. There is a fear of allowing the world to become witness to a darkness which cannot explain; it's who we are. We are cemeteries of secrets buried deep under the surface of our souls. However you stumbled onto the grounds and fearlessly roamed through the rows of monsters awaiting you. The skeletons arise and carry my shame in their marrow as they portray who I am to you. Yet you continue to roam and acquaint yourself with the darkest interior of who I am.

With you I become a well rounded person. You allow me to complete the portrait even with the darkest of hues. You accept the textured edges along with the vacuous spaces which are yet to be filled. I don't think you understand how beautiful that makes me feel.

Over analyzing is the scab-picking of the mental healing process. Maybe the rough exterior irritates the otherwise smooth surface of a memory. Perhaps that one slight touch of uneven texture causes an insurmountable need to smooth the edges - so you pick. At every word, every glance, and everything in between until every answer is now questioned and every reason rendered illogical. A morbid curiosity about the most painful areas of your psyche becomes a masochistic film being replayed for your own pleasure. The search for an answer yields to an insatiable need to test one's own strength against the regret of their past faults. Finally, when you've been somewhat satiated you are left with the vision of your handy work - an open wound bound to scar and be an unsolicited reminder of just how much you are accountable for your own suffering. 

To followers old and new

Over the past few days I've noticed some trickle in and some out. There are those who remain loyal and those who continue to get to know me through my writing. To those who are loyal, thank you for staying by me. I know I've neglected this account for some time due to the lack of a sufficient amount of hours in the day.That is no excuse because I still do find time to write on a daily basis, but lately it's been taxing to find a minute to translate it from inked page to typed words. I am grateful for your loyalty, truly.

To new followers, I have no idea how a group of you have just stepped in unexpectedly but please do introduce yourself. However I do present a warning. If you have an insatiable need for words I am not a reliable source. I provide prose in an erratic manner. I would completely understand if that presents me as an unreliable narrator of sorts. You have every right to leave. But if you stay, just know it would mean quite a bit to know that you specifically are a part of an audience I am immensely grateful for.

This is just a thank you to all who are here. For bearing with me as I go through the disorganization of life. I will update soon, I promise.

Familiarity shrinks the world by defeating the mysterious and bringing to light every fear draped under the cloak of the unknown. Where once I used to crawl over untrodden land I have now become accustomed to my worn in footprints. They mark the places I have been, the areas I no longer fear for I am now comfortable among their confines. Even the slightest bit of unease would deter me from returning and recognizing my own familiar marking. But here I am, situated within my skin and finally claiming it as my own. The fear is eradicated, the shadows of the unknown finally lifted. Yes it is still a large vessel suited for a lifetime to be filled with journeys to corners, limbs, and ventricles. I do not contradict myself. I always foster the idea of today - the lack of belief in a promised tomorrow. So if the day's end is when my days end I shall leave this earth with an empty, untraversed expanse of land I have just begun to see. Maybe there will come a time when all territory within the borders of this skin will be mine to claim. As for now the familiarity is still within the tiny comfort zones of what I want to know of this foreign land.

Running, hiding, finding hollowed out places. All in order to shield myself. Obscure your view of me. I like making myself purposely invisible. At least that way I know that your not being able to see me is of my accord and not necessarily an indirect consequence of who I am. 

I'd rather be forgotten than purposely ignored. 

I guess I just try to make the best of a bad situation.