I have come to a point where I do not listen to myself anymore.
The point where I filter everything I think and put it in a can and just choose to not open that can.
I have also adopted a hard cover- 260 pages, all protected by darkness and a red line of blood that is waiting to be poured on the side of each black cover.
I have pages of words, emotions, ideas, needs…
I have put them in a can- that same can.
‘No time, I am tired, I have better things to do.”- quoted from excuses that are published by my mind.
It hits me, all the time, in my heart and in my mind- that I no longer take an effort to be myself and I keep refining that, that which I call myself.
Like a man I keep taking a punch- no tears shared.
In the middle of the winter nights, I stay up late and keep pushing away from my can and just put my head down and take another punch.
I am ignoring that which I am.
Not by force- but by choice.
My tears run deep, they scar my insides.
But they do not come out- they are not shared.
Even in the hardest moment- facing my worst fear I stand strong.
I keep ignoring that which I am- and I cover it all with man tears.
It serves me no purpose- none at all I tell you.
But, one day I want to be able to say: ” that I choose not to follow that which you are- because I followed it for too long once in my life and I learnt what it means, now I am mine own.”
This is a learning curve, one thing I always find difficult to turn down.
Writing from the heart (something I find more easy to do)- that, one thing I will not side-line for anything.
Thanking you in advance for reading all the way through- means a lot.