Silence,
The mystery,
Sight unfollowed.

The absence of noise may be just as loud as not,
Due to the voices we use to fill the void,
Anxiety.

It is easy to remember the noise,
But impossible to forget the silence

Come,
Wintre's blaze.
Burn my inferno dear,

Sweet, Sweet release,
From Summer's peace.

Firestorm follow my tendency,
To recluse, unwholly,
And leave myself behind.

Wither, wintre's faces beckon,
My heartfelt sorrow's near.

Tis' the season,
To hold my sanity,
Dear.

The world doesn't owe you a **** thing. Hard work doesn't entitle you to a better life, neither does lineage, money or otherwise.

You aren't entitled to ANYthing.
Some people get more than they "deserve".
Other people get less.

"Deserving" is a manufactured concept to allow us to pity ourselves when we acquire less of a good thing or more of a bad thing than we expected.

When something bad happens to you, you didn't deserve it.
When something amazing happens to you, you didn't deserve it.

Our very existence is a gift, and saying we deserve anything more than to be alive is purely arrogant. Be thankful for every drop of water, every grain of sand, and every speck of dust you have because one day, you may not have those anymore. So cherish the ones who you love, because one day, they may no longer be there either.

these writings,
these ramblings,
these, incoherent thoughts,

are many things to me.
i write for several reasons,
and I post my work for several more.

this, is my therapy...
this allows me to go back in time and, re-live moments, to re-think thoughts, and most importantly, re-evaluate my internal response and outlook of the situation, feeling, or occurrence.

my writing focuses upon my internalisms, my thoughts.
very few of my pieces are outwardly inspired. Very rarely is my writing based within my physical perception of what is happening around me.

I post and share, for several more reasons; some purer than others.
I share because I don't want others to suffer as I do at times, and perhaps, something in my writing will inspire a change in thought or feeling, or at the very least, allow someone to relate, and realize they're not alone.

I share so that someone, someday will recognize the true weight and reflection of my writing and be able to identify how, and why I am how I am, and help me better understand myself and the world around me, and minimize, or even eliminate this endless battle, and help me find the only thing in life that I truly yearn for:
peace.

i share also because i feel that my experiences and thoughts are common property. my creations, once made, are no longer mine to keep to myself. these words, these thoughts, these feelings are yours to do with what you please. love them, hate them, learn from them, or ignore them completely. Just as speech is common domain, so is my inner speech.

lastly, i share Because of my struggle... this is my selfish motive. I am addicted to the validation of seeing you all read my inner thoughts and react to it. It tells me I am not dreaming. It shows me that what I feel is, in fact, real and that I am not just a figment of my own imagination.

Why am I writing this?
to show you i am not merely a writer behind a mask, or truly a writer at all.
I am just a human, a person sharing my existence in the form of written words.

Thank you,
And may you all find a true, everlasting peace, and love within yourselves, and each other.

subside the restless, crashing waves.

free my mind from this prison.

i am tired.
i am lost.
i've lost all meaning of the word, hope.

now, i just survive,
but only just...

egged on by the pluck and strike of the dancing tunes i force myself to listen to,
just to distract myself from all the raging stimuli.

emotion-sensory overload

perhaps, it's time i tried something new.
to stare into fear, and run it through...

maybe the little white pills aren't the boogyman,
the monster under my bed.

the monster is in my head,
and perhaps,
this little white pill...
just may put him away for a little while,
one day at a time.

subside the restless,
thoughts in my head.


~~~~~~~

this is my therapy.
so that i can breathe.

this one's not for you,
it's for me to read.
but if you really want to,
so can you.

Point light source.
Glimpse upon your reality.

Soft-spoken liars,
Emptying their forsaken breath upon battle-scarred ears.

Anticipation of the days to come,
Eases the empty mind;
Drain'd by warfare unseen.

The fight ongoing,
Rough-cracked skin boils in the sun,
Heat-stroked by the anxiety.

Retreat into the shadows,
You poor, blossoming flower.
All you need,
Is partial shade.

Your pastel blossoms will bloom,
With colors that will amaze and astound.

Feed upon the streams that drift by,
And at last you will shine as your heartsongs always knew you could.

Define your own beauty,
And become your very own,
Point light source.

~Robert van Lingen