from the underground

“We were a silent, hidden thought in the folds of oblivion, and we have become a voice that causes the heavens to tremble.”
khalil gibran

there are pieces of me all over the internets. the more angsty notes are located on a livejournal i made when i was 16. the brokenhearted on another blog. the confused, the hardened, the resolved safely tucked in other places. even my dreams are elsewhere. i start so many of these...almost as if i'm trying to make as broad of a mark as possible in a very short span of time or if by some way attempt to remove myself from my own murky past.

it is pretty murky. in fact, it's so murky that when an old lover discovered it, he packed his own emotional baggage and hightailed it out of my life. now, i didn't kill anyone. didn't commit any egregious crime. but there was a lot of entanglement. all the lines blurred. even now, i can't see it so clearly. i wasn't a victim. not always. i wasn't the predator. not always. i was new, and i wanted everything. i'm still haunted over those things in my life and perhaps, this is my punishment for being much more reckless and naive than i ought to have been. but, i like to think i'm grown now. i'd like to think i'm not in some perpetual stagnation.

now, i am grown up like. job, bills, responsible decision making, books on what to say, what to do in the business world, listening to traffic reports, etc. oh, the stress! oh, the pangs of horror when i realize there is no more yogurt in the fridge! yet, i have an aversion to anything that tradition approves and have never been fond of any approach that people would deem complacent or normal. yes, i realize what this sounds like. like cries of a 16 year old girl who never wants to grow up. perhaps. but i'm not 16 anymore. and though, i am naive and excessively hopeful about many, many things, there are hardships and tragedies that made me reconsider my prior stance on life. to rethink my place.

i go about my life pursuing things that don't make sense. why? because pursuing those things makes sense to me. i curl up in the memories of other people even if they don't speak to me anymore because at least one person will always remember. there are a million words in my throat. at my fingers. but whenever i explain this...these feelings...the same words come out. it's an impossible task. everything sounds so pretentious and pseudo-individualistic. i can't explain it. in fact, i've always had a hard time explaining this. i want someone to understand. to really understand and not be trying to understand me biblically.

so here i am. another post in another blog. words and feelings and letters that wash from one to another. more of me standing on the ground and trying to fly at the same time. it's to be expected though. for my entire life, i've been this way...i just hope i'm not the only one.