Sundays

Back to the decade old pink brick house with it's clones stationed up and down streets in this generic suburban neighborhood. This place is so ridiculously dedicated to being noisy twenty fours hours, six times a week. Yes, every single day except for Sundays. Don't ask me why they choose to hold their tongues on this particular day, because I'll never know. I just love the fact that they do. A couple Sundays ago, I dubbed this my mental healing and cleansing day. A day for writing, relaxing, and catching up with family. It does me a good deed because I don't think anyone really knows just how much my mind is thinking in overdrive all week. It's exhausting and my thoughts usually get me down. Coming to this familiar pink house covered with flowers of all kinds of hues on all sides- it's an enormous relief for some reason. The weather is exceptionally perfect for sitting here writing with an old canine friend on my lap. I breathe this place into jagged lungs and let the weights lift. This place, despite the hardships endured here in the past, is one of healing now.

Riddle Me This

I have a question. Why is it that things that are perfect gradually change? There's no reason to veer off track if things are so wonderful. So then why does it happen? Is it comfort? Security? I don't think I will ever understand.

"Aren't we the same, you and I? All our love gathers the storm."

From bliss to this. I wear semblance on my skin.

Home

And of course, here's the swing of the the cycle. I need to reevaluate. Things have never been so wrong in my finally right world. There's a war inside myself that I'm losing. My stomach twists and makes me ill. I carry a lead heart. I feel confined in an open space. And I found that the only way to ease the pain is temporary distance- home. The familiar aroma of this place fills my head like the cure I need and tames the beast. The familiar faces, the interactions and conversations, the "old times"- are the perfect ploy to distract a distressed mind. But as the day ends I grow so unbearably fearful of the truth I had momentarily forgot. So much so that it creeps back in, tainting the tainted. Lets go back to the beginning.

The Present at Hand

You must understand that my ramblings are usually random and consist of either good days or bad days. It's always changing for me, every day, every minute. Sadly, nothing is ever solid. It's just how things have always gone for myself.

Things are happening all at once . . . and they're finally good. After I had shunned the corporate giant months ago, I now have finally found a replacement income. It was something that sprung at me at the perfect moment. I was beginning to think that I would have to put my dreams in a drawer for a while until I figured everything out. But I'm okay. And this new income has brightened my future goals with a beautiful glow. I can have a home now. It might be strange to hear something like that from me, but I feel like I don't have a home anymore. For almost eleven months now I endlessly drive back and forth from two buildings. It's tiring, yes, but I do it just to see him as much as I can. The thought of having a place to call my own with him warms my heart. And also my education begins in nearly two weeks. I'm shaky thinking about returning to school since I haven't attended in a while, but I'm also excited. All these things happening for me so suddenly- it's a bit overwhelming. I just hope that I can juggle all these new experiences at once.

Doubt

And maybe this hobby isn't for me. I start strong then fade. I never have enough confidence in myself to continue anything. That's all I'll ever be- the girl with all the interests but without the courage.