I feel too safe, I feel too sheltered, I feel as though I'm stagnant in the same oppressed position. This is not me. This is not exciting, or lively, or challenging, or daring. It is blank, it is boredom, it is buried hope and buried goals. It is waiting, not doing, it is fear. There is a willing and yearning to "go" but I seem to be held up at "no". When will I ever know if it's my time to "go"? For me to leave things behind that are unfinished, that just seem to be taking too much time? I could "go", I could explore and embrace all types of change. I guess I'm stuck at, "I don't know".

I'm not accepting love lately.
I don't know how to love lately.
I'm really very lost lately.
I'm lots and lots of lonely lately.
Goodnight.

Two best friends, him and her, put on their jackets as they made their way to play in the six feet of snow that had avalanched down during the night. It didn't matter that they were adults, it didn't matter that snow was for children to build snowmen, to throw snowballs, to make angels. Her hands were frost bitten within minutes, even with wool gloves, and his ears were the color of cold punch. They needed warmth and they sought it from each other. Him and her, anxiously went inside. He offered his warm torso for her to slip her hands onto, and she buried his ears in her warm lips. Now it was time for them to play inside.

When I let it be I swear I'm free
Not a care in the world the freshest air for me
And I'm on to a chapter where it may be hard to breath,
But I'll be who I be till the end you see,
There is no guaranteed future just this moment
And I feel all emotion, I own it
I'm not a rapper I'm a woman I'm a poet
Many people in my life may never know it

I'm looking out my window watching the sun dip beneath the sea ever so slowly, the pinks, oranges, and yellows melting together reminding me of my favorite sherbet dessert.

It is scenes like this that ease the pain of reality and worry, something I like to playfully call "worrality" in my own creative chaotic mind.

Everything is questionable, dubious, subject to change is what I have come to find. There are no rules written in the Earth telling us the proper or right way to live, and that is something that we tend to miss. Overlook. Misunderstand.

The sun instinctually and purposefully rises and sets every morning and night to give us another chance to make these precious, subtle, but vital, realizations. And even though we do not see its yellow circle on stormy rainy days, the earth continues to glow and so do we.

Late night delirium clouds my mind.
I was in a deep black beautiful sleep twenty minutes ago, but now, awake, thoughtless thoughts in my head
keep fighting the peaceful outside silence that surrounds me.
I feel there is no lonelier time than 3:30 in the morning.
There is no body switch, or brain switch that can turn this inner torture off.
Although I wish there was.